


Turn Back to the End

by breakingoftheshell



Series: Ouroboros [2]
Category: Pitch Black (2000), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: BAMFs, Developing Relationship, Families of Choice, First Time, Honestly Have No Idea How To Tag This, M/M, Never Had A Doubt, Original Character(s), Past Drug Addiction, Protectiveness, Resolved Sexual Tension, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakingoftheshell/pseuds/breakingoftheshell
Summary: Riddick is no stranger to his past coming to bite him in the ass. Turns out, he doesn't mind at all. Johns' past, though, is a different story.
Relationships: Boss Johns/Luna, William Johns/Richard B. Riddick
Series: Ouroboros [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716016
Comments: 51
Kudos: 37





	1. With Teeth

Johns hasn't pulled out his gauge yet, but the impatient arch of one brow let's Riddick know play time's almost over.

"How long do you plan to keep this shit up?" Johns drawls, in case it’s not clear.

"Til they scare straight," Riddick answers, all tooth.

"An' I was under the impression that's what slam's for," Johns says, too dry to tell if he's being ironical.

"Come on," Riddick says, tone light. "No one gets right in slam."

"And yet," Johns muses with a calculated tip of his head.

And yet Johns looks at Riddick without the slightest shade of doubt. There's even something smug in his expression, and Riddick feels singed by the confidence Johns has in him--despite where he's come from. Johns will tease him next, about being part of a merc crew and feeding scum back into the system that Riddick hates. For some reason, that doesn't bother Riddick like it should. Not until he thinks about it too hard. So he slips away around a corner without waiting for Johns to go on. He leans into the darkness so neither of them have to finish these thoughts.

They've got three bounty heads funneled into a bombed out block on a refugee planet. This isn't the kind of job they would normally take, but someone reached out to Boss about it from planetside. The pay isn't high. But the civilian casualties are, and they've gotten higher each day these bounties have gone untouched. So the crew agreed they could make time to take a hand to that shit. Even if they'll barely break even for their efforts.

It's the kind of job that Riddick savors. He's spent forty minutes melting in and out of shadows already, only slicing out long enough to nip a curved blade at one of three terrified pieces of human garbage. He's come at them from every direction except right out of the goddamned ground. And if he had time, he'd drop down into the sewer system just so he could do that too. These pieces of shit have been on this rock snatching little girls from already displaced families for eight months. Riddick has all the time in the universe for their type.

Johns is right though. Boss has been monitoring the whole operation from the air, which is a long burn in atmo. Plus, Dahl and Luna are hanging back in support positions, and this is the only kind of job where Dahl really chafes at being stuck behind the scope. She's probably ready to shank the first thing that moves. It doesn't bode particularly well for Luna.

At that thought, Riddick turns his face up toward the high ground where he and Johns left darling sis and junior. He winks. Dahl hasn't lost her edge. Even if it's just his eyeshine she catches, she knows what he's doing and nearly explodes the comm in his ear calling him a motherfucker. He just flashes a feral grin and goes back to nipping at the marks until he gets them pinned down in an abandoned lower level shop. The structure is crumbled in the back so they can't get out any other way than the one they went in. Riddick doesn't draw any fatal blood in the process, but he flicks a few crimson drops off his blades as he stalks the sidewalk across from the storefront.

Johns slips out of some other shadowed pathway that led to the same destination. Riddick never doubted that Johns was just behind him. Johns still hasn't unholstered a weapon. He ambles up and stops near Riddick to eye the blank windows across the way.

"Had your fun now?" Johns asks.

"Jealous?" Riddick counters.

"Oh, don't you worry. My time'll come," Johns answers with a lazy, dangerous smile.

It's just a peek of the part of Johns that fascinates Riddick the most--his animal side. Even on jobs, Riddick only ever sees it like this, in tiny peeks and brief brilliant flashes. Not that Johns isn't always bright, like a sun. But sometimes--sometimes Riddick imagines Johns is like a sun with teeth.

They're both still analyzing the field of play--wide street cluttered with rubble and abandoned automobiles--when they see the flash in the air arcing toward them. Neither of them bother to shout a warning. They surge toward each other at the same time. Johns' open hand hits Riddick's chest. Riddick still manages to shove Johns half in front of him as they turn their backs on the grenade.

The detonation slams into them from behind and sends them both staggering into the building that blocks their path. Riddick holds one arm straight out against the concrete to keep from crushing Johns. The heat and pressure sear Riddick's back. But it's fast--fast and loud enough to be almost numbing.

When the roar subsides, Riddick lets his arm fall, and Johns straightens calmly from the defensive tuck inward he'd taken. Riddick can see he's unharmed. Johns' eyes flick over Riddick, and then they both turn back to the storefront. Riddick pulls his goggles back down over his eyes. Some of the debris has caught fire, throwing the street into bright relief. Riddick scans for runners. Doesn't want anyone slipping away now.

Johns steps closer to Riddick with an irritated sniff and says, "Well, they warned us these fuckers were reckless."

"They're not packing heavy, or they would have used grenades earlier," Riddick replies.

He feels a sharp tug in his back and turns his head to see Johns' hand pulling away with a piece of shrapnel. It's roughly the size and shape of one of the crew's badges, but the only thing shiny about this hunk of metal is where it's slick with Riddick's blood. Johns lifts the metal closer to his face and turns it in the flickering light, probably to see just how much blood there is. He sniffs and his nose crinkles. Then he lowers his hand and flicks the piece of scrap away where it clinks into a shadow on the street. The only change in his expression is the closed set of his mouth, not tense but final. Without looking back at Riddick, he reaches down his leg, wipes the blood off his fingers, and pulls his shotgun free from the straps.

Riddick grins. This is going to go fast now.

It does.

Less than ten minutes later, they're loaded back into the drop ship, and Johns is getting an incredible ass chewing from Boss. Riddick can't stop the smirk. After all, Riddick collared his catch alive. It's Johns who couldn't manage not to kill someone this time. He bagged two, but only one of them is still breathing. Truth is, the remaining two will be lucky to make it to holding still alive between the murderous gleam in Dahl's eyes and the buckshot through their delicate parts. Riddick can't take credit for any of it. Everyone knows guns aren't his thing. Johns though. Well, he'd had his moment, like he said he would.

Boss has a lot to say about how it's a good goddamn thing these bounty's survival doesn't have any particular bearing on their payday. This time. These assholes are worth the same with or without a heartbeat-- or a dick for that matter. Johns looks extremely unconcerned about it. Riddick wolf grins.

After they dump the trash and re-dock with their larger jump ship, Boss heads to the bridge to make sure all their account info has been updated accordingly. Riddick moves to follow him. As soon as they're squared away, they'll pick their next op. Riddick doesn't have any particular target in mind, but he can think of a few places he'd rather not go. Boss has always had good judgment, surprisingly, but Riddick isn't about to miss the chance to catch him making a bad call.

Johns grabs Riddick's elbow though and steers him away from the steps and catwalk that lead up to the bridge. Riddick eyes Johns but follows the push down the corridor. It takes him a moment to realize he's being taken to medbay.

"Come on, Johns," Riddick says with an odd mix of protest and skepticism.

"Make sure he doesn't bleed on any part of my ship. If he does, he's cleaning it," Boss calls from somewhere above them.

"Yeah, cause that's what's most concerning," Johns replies.

"With him, absolutely," Boss shouts back, already a deck up and a corridor away.

Riddick finally shrugs, because Boss kind of has a valid point. He runs a clean ship. Even Riddick has come to appreciate it. Hygiene wasn't ever a priority to him before, because it couldn't be. But there's something to be said for cleanliness, especially with a nose as sensitive as his. Every time he comes back to the ship, it's like a palate cleanser. He starts getting all his smells clean again. Boss' sharp aftershave. That soft powdery smell that comes from Dahl's make-up. Luna's leather and old paper. Stern's antiseptic and tobacco smoke, which is not Riddick's favorite. There are even, in a few spots, lingering hints of Jesse's sandalwood oil, though he retired months ago.

Then there's the scent Riddick can pick out in any crowd on any world. It's a mix of steel, gun oil, cedar, and flesh. Johns. It's the most comforting smell Riddick knows, and on the ship it's at its purest. Riddick will always recognize this as the scent of home.

In medbay, Johns shoves at Riddick, fingers pressing into the top of his spine to direct him to the table. Riddick shakes his head but sits.

"Lose the shirt," Johns says from the sink. "It's done for anyway."

Riddick peels the black sleeveless shirt off and sets it on the table next to him, bloody side up. "I liked that shirt."

"It looked good. Comfortable," Johns agrees, coming up behind Riddick.

A cool hand braces flat on Riddick's back, and then something decidedly cold swabs low toward the right. Riddick's flesh pricks up against the cold as Johns efficiently swipes the area around the wound clean. He tsks at the mess, which prompts Riddick to shrug again. The movement makes Johns' fingers catch against the wound. Riddick feels fresh blood, thin and warm, dribble down into the hollow at the base of his spine.

"Hold still," Johns says. "Fer fuck sake."

"Sorry," Riddick says with a lop sided smile over his shoulder.

Johns' mouth quirks just enough as he spares a glance up, then he pinches Riddick viciously, fingers twisting into the meat of his side and jabbing up under his rib cage. Riddick huffs and Johns grins, turning away to grab something new from the supply cart. He comes back quick and presses a grainy finger into Riddick's wound. The granules sting, like hot coals, but Riddick knows they're stopping the blood flow and killing any infection. The cool fingers of Johns' free hand rest on either side of the wound, pressing down in slow circles as if trying to ease the pain and not be noticed at the same time. They're a paradoxical counterpoint to where Riddick's side throbs from the pinch. The William J. Johns Handbook of Distraction is about as robust as Riddick's, it seems. Let one pain drown out another. It's most efficient.

After the requisite thirty seconds, Johns lets the pressure off and goes to the sink again, rinsing his hands clean before coming back to mop up the gore around the wound once more. His hands are warm this time, and Riddick let's himself appreciate how well Johns can read him. The younger man's touch soothes Riddick's cold prickles away.

Johns pats the skin around the wound dry then steps to the side to give it some air. He leans forward onto his elbows on the table and plucks at Riddick's shirt, inspecting the tear in it.

"Ain't so bad, I guess. With a wash," he says, sounding conciliatory.

Riddick eyes the shirt as Johns tries to smooth it flat. The tear is almost centered, low on the back, long and thin rather than gaping and ragged. It's a lot longer than the wound. Riddick probably tore it wider while they were finishing the op. Or maybe that's just how the fragment caught him--sideways and slashing, like something after his own heart. Either way, the shirt could be salvageable. It doesn't have to be. But as Johns' hands keep smoothing over the synthetic fabric, Riddick finds himself more attached to a piece of clothing than he's ever been before.

Johns folds the shirt into a neat square that hides the blood, then he stands up and moves back behind Riddick. He gives the flesh around the wound a couple gentle pokes before he makes a satisfied noise and pulls a square bandage from the cart. Riddick barely feels it brush against his skin, and then Johns' fingertips make long, firm strokes along each adhesive edge to seal it in place. Riddick's eyes fall closed, but it doesn't matter behind the safety of his goggles.

Johns stills, his hand on Riddick's shoulder. He leans in to rest his forehead against the back of Riddick's neck. For a moment, everything inside Riddick stops. His lungs, his brain, his heart. By the time he gets everything started again and reaches back toward Johns with one arm, Johns has already started pulling away. Riddick's fingers close on empty air. Johns gives Riddick's shoulder one last squeeze and makes sure everything is put away.

* * *

They're somewhere way out on the rim of established territory when Riddick walks onto the bridge to find Johns and Dahl arguing about who let the trail run cold. Riddick advised turning around a long time ago, but he's learned to stay out of the arguments. Johns and Dahl fight as if they really did grow up together, pigtails to pimples. They work each other up into regular jackasses sometimes. But then Riddick figures that's half the structure of their relationship.

"You know what? Just turn us around, fuckhead," Dahl says.

Johns chuckles and sets a new course. "Hey sis," he says. "If I ever get married, I want you to be my best man."

Riddick laughs. Dahl opens her mouth, somewhere between anger and amusement, but it only takes a few seconds for her to settle on a dry, "Cute."

She turns to Riddick, who's a couple steps behind the pilot's seat. She leans in and mock-whispers, "The punchline is that we're all still waiting for someone to make an honest woman out of him."

Johns snorts from the pilot's seat, still sounding more amused than anything. Riddick grins at that too and turns to smirk at Johns' reflection in the view screen as Dahl moves to leave. Riddick is caught entirely off guard when Dahl uses her heel to buckle his knee and send him falling forward.

" _Whoopsie_ ," Dahl sing-songs as she slips off the bridge.

Riddick lands on one knee with his shoulder jammed against the side of Johns' chair. At the very least, Dahl probably deserves an _"I see what you did there"_ but fuck if Riddick's gonna be the one that gives it to her. Instead, he wonders how he didn't crack his skull on the edge of the seat and straightens his back to look up into Johns' grin.

"The hell did I do?" Riddick asks.

Johns just laughs at him and offers a hand. Riddick shakes his head and sets his palm flat on Johns' warm thigh. Johns holds his leg steady under Riddick's weight, muscles solid under Riddick's fingers. Riddick pushes to his feet, pulling away from Johns as he rolls the ache out of his abused knee. Johns relaxes his leg, stretching it out under the flight console as he checks a few more things on the computer.

Riddick sits in the chair Dahl recently vacated. It's supposed to be quiet hours on the ship. This is Johns' shift, but Riddick can only take so much sleep. He and Johns might talk and they might not, but either way this is the best place on the ship to be right now. Riddick's got full access to every system and database from here. And he's got that smell that tells him he's exactly where he's supposed to be.

As the hours pass, Riddick flicks aimlessly through star charts. The whole time, he's never not aware of Johns smoothing his palm over where Riddick imagines his own fingers have left an imprint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to do this for years. I'm so sorry for anyone who has been waiting. But I mean, I guess you can thank COVID-19 for something?
> 
> I'm terrible at titling, so posting this work in chapters is giving me some practice with that...
> 
> Guys, I don't even know what to say. This is basically the teaser chapter. I have too many feelings about my OTP to really have anything coherent to say about this. I think I might even be nervous. Shit. I've been coveting this story in my heart for too long.


	2. Mine and Yours

Riddick wakes from the deceleration that he has repeatedly been told he isn't supposed to be able to sense in these kinds of ships. Just like he isn't supposed to be aware of anything in cryo-sleep. He blinks awake to the starscape swinging sideways across the view screen. His defensive instincts automatically kick in even though he knows he fell asleep next to Johns on the bridge. He doesn't know how that happened; it's not something he's ever done before. With anyone. He can hear Johns' steady breathing and the thump of his keystrokes on the control panel. Riddick forces his muscles to relax as he watches an arm of Tangrel Space Dock slide past the nose of the ship. Seconds later, there's a light shudder as the dock's clamps lock the ship in. Riddick turns to look at Johns then.

Johns finishes powering down the flight system and glances at Riddick. He grins and says, "Good morning, sunshine."

Riddick grunts.

Johns chuckles and rubs his face as he stands from his seat. Riddick follows, not quite prepared for the way his neck is tight on one side. He's always careful of the way he positions himself for sleep. Well, always _was_. Johns stops in the middle of the bridge and stretches his arms up, catching an overhead strut with his fingertips and letting his body hang from it with a groan. He twists like there's something inside himself he's trying to pull straight. Riddick's fingers flex as he waits behind him, itching to feel. He's never been good at not reaching out. But for some reason, he has all the control in the world right now. Johns regains his feet with a soft grunt. He turns to catch Riddick on the tail end of a huge yawn.

"Whaddaya say? Wanna go wake the kiddies?" Johns asks.

"I'd rather piss glass," Riddick says, taking the secret delight he always does when he turns Johns' own words back at him without the merc even realizing it.

"All right, all right. I'll wake 'em, you prep the drop ship," Johns says, grinning at the look on Riddick's face.

Riddick snorts at him. Johns heads toward cryo, where Boss, Luna, and Stern are. Riddick goes down to find that Dahl has beat him to the drop ship. She probably had her proximity alarm set. They're halfway through their launch prep when Dahl makes a noise. Riddick turns to see her holding up a broad skull with four gnarly horns coming out of it. She holds it up with one hand like there might still be bio-matter on it--which Riddick supposes there could be. It doesn't stink though. As far as his nose can tell, it's clean.

"Seriously, bro?" Dahl says.

Riddick shrugs. "I liked 'em." The creatures had been a challenge in a fight and loyal after he'd gained their trust.

Dahl rolls her eyes. "Look, I think we're gonna have to put some weight restrictions on your souvenirs."

She tosses the skull, which is easily two and half feet wide with the horns, into the corridor outside the drop ship. Boss stands aside just in time and stretches around to look at where the skull lands with a clatter. He looks back at the pair in the drop ship. He seems a little surprised with the encounter but otherwise unimpressed.

"We could hang it in the rec room," he offers. "She's right though. You're only worth so much weight in bone, Riddick."

"I'll be selective about the body parts I collect from now on," Riddick says with half a grin.

Boss chuckles and thumps Riddick's shoulder as he goes past him to the cockpit.

"Swear to god, if I find a shark dick hidden in here some day," Dahl mutters.

Riddick files that away with amusement, just in case he ever has the opportunity.

Prep goes quick after that. Johns shows up with Luna and Stern, and they sit down for the drop into atmo. Boss has to punch up detailed drop info from the space station. Riddick prefers it when they can leave the jump ship in independent orbit--less record of them ever being in a place. But Boss isn't paranoid about that kind of stuff the way Riddick is, and it's safer to dock the ship when they're in a region with this much traffic. Tangrel is frontier territory, and a majority of their supplies still come in from off world. Streams of traffic come in and go out all around the planet, and half of them are undocumented smuggling lanes. Ship to ship collisions are common out here.

The clunks of the airlocks sealing between the jump ship and the drop ship are a beat out of simultaneous, and the closed hatches make it a shade darker inside the cabin. It's the signal to strap in, but Johns is still standing behind his father's chair, reaching around him to punch something up on a control panel. He sends a visual of Tangrel back to the cabin display and whistles.

"Bright as hell down there," he says. "Got your sunscreen, Riddick?"

Tangrel curves white across the display, and Riddick snaps his goggles down over his eyes. Johns pulls a ball cap out from a cubby and hangs it from his shotgun before he sits next to Riddick and straps in. Boss opens the shutters, and light streams into the cabin. Dahl closes her eyes and smiles as a shaft of sunlight falls over her.

Riddick forgets sometimes that the dark isn't natural for the rest of the crew. Lots of the time, they'll live by the light of instrumentation alone, because it's enough for them and not too much for Riddick. But just enough doesn't necessarily mean comfortable, Riddick knows. He wants to resent the gesture, because it's not anything he ever asked them to do. He doesn't want to owe them for their consideration. But there's something about being given something he never asked for that's not so bad either.

The drop goes like any other. There's a minute or two of rough air while they pierce the upper atmosphere. The ambient light gets brighter.

"What makes you so sure this is where our guy went?" Luna asks halfway to touchdown.

"I could show you all the recon, or we could just say," Johns pauses to eye Riddick. "It's what he would have done."

Riddick crosses his arms and lifts his chin, eyeing Johns back as he recites what he's already told him multiple times. "He knows he needs to go where he won't stand out. That means low-level development but enough people to provide camouflage. He ain't city sophisticated, so his best bet is with townies like this."

"Okay, townies?" Luna asks. "But there's like six million people down in that city. You're seriously calling them townies?"

Riddick turns to Luna, mouth spreading into a slow smile. "Remind you of home, kid?"

"Yeah, I grew up in a metropolis, not a metroplex," Luna says. "That doesn't make me a freakin' townie!"

"Aw, kid, I knew you were quaint for a reason," Johns teases.

Luna throws him a dark look. Dahl laughs and reaches over to pat Luna's knee.

"Seriously though, kid. We gotta take you to a metroplanet some time," she says.

"Uck," Luna says and scrunches up his face.

Riddick's sharp smile at Luna eases into something closer to commiseration. Metroplanets give high traffic a new meaning. Riddick doesn't know how anyone can live like that, people on top of each other on worlds with no open spaces left. There's a whole universe out there. Why would anyone huddle together, piled in their own stink?

They're no place for mercs either. Metroplanets have their own legal enforcement organizations, sometimes spanning entire systems, and they like their rules, whatever their particular set may be. They are not fond of bounty hunters coming in and dealing with things the way their local law enforcement only wishes they could.

Out here though, mercs are the law. That's what's kept Riddick safe for more than a year now. Riddick still has a bounty on his head. But Boss Johns has one of the most highly respected crews in the business. He's got more friends than enemies. All the good mercs turn a blind eye to Riddick's bounty nowadays, and all the rest aren't good enough to even get close to them.

Which isn't to say Riddick's teeth don't stay sharp. This is all his choice. Staying or leaving, hunting or not. He plays by the ship rules because he wants to. It's a small price to pay for what it gives him. He always thought something like this would make him feel neutered, but he hasn't changed who he is for them. He's still a predator, more animal than human, which is why they've never bothered to give him his own quarters. He doesn't sleep in a bed. If he needs down time, he tucks himself into a dark corner somewhere, and not even Johns can find him. Not even Boss, who practically built this ship himself. He's never slept in front of any of them.

Well, he hadn't. But now there's Johns in the back of Riddick's head murmuring, _Good morning, sunshine_.

Riddick tries to dredge up some uneasiness about it, but he can't. Johns is too much a part of him. If he knows where Riddick's soft underbelly is, it's because he's the shield over it. He's the thing under Riddick's hand that keeps him steady.

Once their in Tangrel City, Boss takes Luna into the housing district while Dahl and Stern head downtown. Riddick and Johns scour the red light district. Riddick smirks at the number of times Johns has to say, "No thanks, honey." Riddick gets his fair share of offers too, but he walks through them without a word. Except for one, a blonde kid, too young and skinny to be out here doing this. The kid slinks into Riddick's side and starts to murmur something to him, but Riddick just puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back to give him a long look, like he's evaluating a product. The kid holds still and offers what he probably thinks is his best most seductive smile. Riddick reaches into his pocket and comes out with a handful of credits. The kid slinks back in, pressing himself to Riddick again, his front all warm and quivery against Riddick's thigh. Riddick presses the handful of credits against the kid's bare chest and leans his head close to whisper, "Eat. Before you get eaten."

The kid shivers. Riddick pushes him back one more time and lets go so the credits fall into the boy's open hands. The boy stares, and Riddick turns away to rejoin Johns, who waits a couple feet down the street with a smirk. Johns' hand rests on the stock of his shotgun as they continue on their way.

"Way to let 'em down easy, champ," he says.

"What?" Riddick asks, all innocence.

"I almost feel sorry for him," Johns says.

Riddick wants to ask why but then decides he doesn't. Sometimes it's better not to know what he's done wrong, because of the things about himself he won't change. Really though, his social skills aren't all Johns is talking about here, and that's something Riddick thinks it's probably safer to avoid.

* * *

Boss calls them back to the shipyard, but by the time they get there, Boss has already abandoned the rendezvous point. Luna is with Dahl and Stern. The older two are scoping out the busy loading area, but Luna looks sort of devastated.

"I got separated from him. I'm so sorry," he says as soon as Johns is within earshot.

"Hey, I'm sure he's fine, kid," Johns says and tries to raise his father on the comm.

There's a few seconds of white noise before Boss' breathless voice answers them. "Southwest end of the loading docks. He's got two amigos, and they're headed for a shuttle on the last freighter."

"Coming to you," Johns says, jerking his shoulder at the others and starting to the right at a trot.

"Gonna try to tree 'em before we lose 'em," Boss says.

Riddick surges to the lead as Johns breaks into an actual run and says, "Wait for us!"

Riddick can hear the others pelting along behind him. They make their way to the harbor wall, and all along it, there's ship after ship, as far as they can see. There's an end down there, Riddick knows it, but it's so far off that the piles of shipping containers block it from view. They dart around loading equipment, and people duck out of their way without anyone having to shout for them to move. It's the uniforms, even though they haven't managed to wrangle Riddick into one yet. With Johns at his side, no one ever questions him.

The sun is low ahead of them, making the sky brightest along the horizon just behind the stacks piled on the wharf. Riddick imagines what the orange-yellow light they're running into looks like. Cranes reach into the sky, swaying back and forth to unload cargo into more piles or onto waiting hover sledges. Riddick leaps a barricade meant to keep civvies out of loading zones and rolls under a huge container as it swings past. Johns is right there with him, Dahl just a step behind, and Luna and Stern scramble along just after her.

Finally, there's only one ship left, towering over the wharf and stretching a kilometer along it's length. There are no dock workers around this ship, and none of the loading equipment is moving. It's like a ghost town, and Riddick slows to a walk. A wary tingle crawls up his spine and breaks out across his skin.

Boss should have acknowledged them by now. Riddick looks at Johns, and Johns taps the comm in his ear twice then shakes his head. His mouth has that hard set to it that means they're not fucking around. Riddick feels the tensing around his own mouth as the instinct to snarl rises. His animal senses are peaked, riding the swell of territoriality that comes from feeling a threat to something of his.

Riddick smothers surprise at the possessiveness burning through him. It's easy to process once he acknowledges it. Boss is their anchor, all of them. Big Daddy Johns to a whole shipload of misfits. Plus, Boss is Johns' is therefore Riddick's.

Johns nods to Riddick and, just as they move together out of the shadows, there's a clang from the scaffolding that climbs the side of the ship over them. Riddick jerks toward the noise and sees four figures struggling against one another twenty meters off the ground. The one in the middle is in the dark uniform the crew wears on light ops—the one that makes them look like old timey beat cops. The badge flashes in the sunlight as Boss pulls an arm free and throws a punch at one of the three goons wrangling him toward the edge of the scaffold.

Riddick leaps and climbs without thinking, Johns doing the same on the other leg of the scaffold just on the edge of Riddick's peripheral vision. They scale the structure in perfect sync, and Riddick can hear the thump of Dahl taking a knee and racking the slide on her rifle. Boss curses at his captors, even takes a page out of Riddick's book and goes for a throat with his teeth bared. The toes of his boots scrape the metal decking to push him back from the edge of the catwalk, but Riddick knows they'll never reach him in time.

Dahl's first shot rings out, and the mark on the left pitches back with a hole clean through his forehead. Any captures made here were supposed to be live, but Riddick is glad Dahl isn't taking any chances, the situation being what it is. Riddick grabs a hoisting chain off a deck as he surges past and swings with it, sending the whole mess whipping around Boss' straining legs. Riddick can only hope the hook end of the chain will catch on itself somehow.

Dahl fires on the man on the right and racks up another clean headshot. The last of these assholes uses Boss as a shield though. On either side, Riddick and Johns are getting closer, and the mark can't get anywhere and take Boss with him. The piece of shit hesitates, long enough for Riddick to see the whites of his eyes. Then he shoves Boss.

The shot rings out the moment Boss pitches forward. He yells and Riddick lunges, not quite high enough yet, but his hand catches the tail of the chain tangled around Boss' legs and when he reaches up with his other hand for a grasp on anything, an arm latches onto his. Boss hits the end of the chain and screams in pain, but Riddick only feels relief as Boss' weight snaps through his shoulders.

Boss swings by his ankles, head only a couple meters from the asphalt. He groans and Riddick looks away from him, up and into Johns' red face and wild eyes. He's afraid, Riddick realizes. Riddick has never seen him afraid. Not like this. Not because he ever actually feared losing something that mattered to him. He's seen him desperate to save his own life, but that was only ever survival instinct. Even then, he didn't really care. This is some kind of bone deep panic that's only just starting to subside.

"We got him," Riddick rumbles, growl working in his throat, the animal inside him still raging against the threat, ready to tear the unwelcome fear right out of Johns.

Johns nods and grits his teeth, hanging on. He can't pull them both up, and Riddick knows better than to drop Boss even this short distance straight onto his head.

Below, Luna and Stern lunge to Boss and shout that they've got him. Riddick let's out the last few fistfuls of chain he holds, giving enough slack that when he looks down, Boss is half suspended between Stern and Luna. Dahl stays in position, keeping her scope trained on the body that's still twitching on the catwalk next to Johns. Riddick tosses the end of the chain so it'll land clear of anyone below then twists and reaches up with his free arm. Johns catches him, their arms winding together between them like one of the chain's links. Johns hauls up on Riddick, using his body weight like a lever to roll Riddick up over the edge of the deck. By the time Riddick feels landed, Johns has rolled all the way onto his back with Riddick half dragged over him.

" _Fuck all this_ ," Johns says with feeling, against one of Riddick's pectoral muscles as Riddick finishes rolling over him to sprawl on the deck beside him.

Riddick grunts in agreement and then elbows the twitching body that's crowded too close to where he and Johns lay. He's maybe more forceful than he should be about it. The body rolls backward and off the back side of the catwalk. Riddick holds his breath for a fraction of a second until it hits the tarmac with a meaty smack and everyone still alive on the ground squawks indignantly.

"My bad," Riddick grumbles down at them.

They grumble back, and it's close enough to a positive status check going around that Riddick feels his shoulders relax as Johns chuckles at his side. The chain drags and clinks below, and Boss lets out a sharp gasp of pain. At that Riddick rolls upright and stands, grabbing the hand that Johns lifts from the deck and using it to peel him up off the grate. They both shuffle to the same side of the scaffold this time, and Riddick climbs down first. Johns' strained breathing betrays the bruised ribs he must've got from taking Boss and Riddick's combined weight over a hard metal edge. Riddick stays right under him in case he slips, but they make it to the ground without incident.

By then, Dahl and Stern have gone off to find a hover sledge leaving Luna kneeled anxiously over where Boss is sprawled. Both of Boss' ankles are twisted just enough to be eerily wrong in a way that even Riddick's joints wouldn't be able to compensate for. Boss is gonna be off his feet for a while, but he's otherwise okay. Johns kneels across from Luna and looks his father over for other injuries. Riddick drops into an observant crouch at Boss' feet.

Boss eyes him and then grunts, "Thanks."

Riddick shrugs and turns away from the keen expression on Boss' face. He looks over his shoulder as if Dahl and Stern might be back already. Blood from the body Riddick unintentionally pancaked seeps across the pavement toward Boss' head, and Luna scuffs at the trail with his boot, like that'll stop it or something. There's a lot of blood in a body though, and really, they're just gonna have to move Boss away from it.

"Goddammit," Luna says, which makes Boss laugh.

"Don't take the Lord's name on my account, kid," Boss chuckles.

Luna gives him an unimpressed stare then pulls on his shoulders to get him to sit up. The movement jostles Boss' legs, but Boss just grits his teeth and goes with it. That is until Luna slips an arm around his shoulders and another under his knees.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Boss demands.

"Shut up and put your arm around me," Luna orders and lifts.

"Like hell!" Boss yelps but grabs onto Luna for balance anyway.

Riddick raises an eyebrow at Johns. Johns shares his own look with Riddick, all signs of the fear gone as his eyes spark with speculative mischief. He does his best to cover a smirk by chewing on his finger. Luna stands straight and still with Boss against his chest, taking a moment to adjust to the older man's weight. Then he doggedly marches back up the docks. Riddick and Johns flank him, listening intently.

"For fuck sake, kid," Boss sighs in Luna's arms.

"You should have waited for us," Luna scolds through labored breaths.

"Look, it is absolutely my prerogative if I wanna get a job done as fast as possible," Boss argues.

"And look where that got you," Luna says with an indulgent smile.

Boss chooses to ignore him and fusses, turning his face away from Luna before he lets his head fall back to hang over Luna's arm. He bounces like a ragdoll for two steps before he lifts his head again, looking positively bitchy as he tries to find a way to support his neck without having to tuck himself deeper into Luna. Johns laughs, probably harder than he should, and shoots Riddick a grin that's fucking _delighted_ with this turn of events. Riddick has to smile with him. Dahl and Stern turn a corner around a stack of shipping containers, guiding a hover sledge at waist height between them. They both pause at the sight walking to meet them. Riddick can see them look at each other and grin in the distance. Boss lets a huff out through his nose and gives in, laying his head on Luna's shoulder. Luna pretends not to notice, but his mouth curves with satisfaction like he can't help it.

Riddick amends his earlier thoughts about possessiveness. Boss may be one of his, hell, he's all of theirs. But he's Luna's first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When guys think they're being subtle, and they're really not. Lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Always thankful for folks yelling at me too. It really helps.


	3. Nip

The injuries take Boss out of active rotation for longer than anyone is comfortable with, but the consolation prize is witnessing the way Luna hens around him, gazes at him when he thinks no one else can see, and generally makes his infatuation unmistakable. The cherry on top is when Boss develops enough self-awareness to start blushing about it. The crew places bets on when someone will walk in on Boss with a lapful.

Riddick wins that one. He gives them 27 days, and that's exactly when it is, after Boss is back on his own feet, that Riddick and Johns walk into the rec room to find Luna drawn across Boss' lap like he's a rifle about to get field stripped. Riddick has never seen Boss clutching at a gun quite like this though, fingers tight on Luna's arms, like maybe they were mid-struggle, except now Boss looks like he's dying while Luna is craned up to him, chewing on his bottom lip. Riddick's nostrils flare at the sheer strength of the pheromones they're giving off, but it's Johns who decides to clear his throat.

Boss snaps his eyes open and makes a choking noise, half-heartedly pushing at Luna, who contrarily fists his hands tighter into Boss' shirt-front while casting a wary look at Johns. Johns winks at him and digs out his wallet, passing 100 credits over to Riddick.

"Much appreciated," Riddick says, flashing his winnings.

Boss turns red and growly, even as Luna relaxes and starts to smile. Riddick just smirks and shrugs. If Boss is gonna be all precious about this, he picked an odd fucking place for discretion. Briefly, Riddick considers giving Boss some shit about how his spine is holding up nowadays, but there's a guilty sting in the air, mixed in with the heady scent of arousal, that warns Riddick that Boss probably doesn't need any reminders about robbing cradles right now. Fuck's sake. Luna's not that goddamn young.

As if sensing the need to somehow normalize this, Johns makes a noise and pulls a battered condom out of his wallet.

"Need this?" he offers, the little shit that he is. "No? Well, I'm sure Stern's got you, ah, covered."

"You little shit!" Boss barks, brain cells obviously too short of supply for originality.

Johns laughs and flicks the condom so it hits Luna between the eyes. Luna snickers and flicks the condom right back so Johns has to catch it in front of his crotch. Riddick guffaws. Johns grins and jerks his shoulder at Riddick, and they continue on to the chemical supply locker at the back of the room. Johns flicks the too-old condom into the trash outside the door. Riddick notes that with interest and follows him into the locker. They hear Luna's needy protests as they root around for parts cleaner. By the time they re-emerge with their supplies, Boss and Luna are gone.

"So that's where you get your game," Riddick muses to Johns on the way back out.

Johns laughs. "Shit. That old bastard never had to work for it. I should be so lucky."

Riddick shakes his head. Johns won't ever have to work for it either. He just doesn't seem to know that. Or actually care. Johns hasn't ever genuinely seemed all that interested in sex. Not unless it was part of a con. It's not that Johns doesn't like to be touched. He's the most tactile person Riddick's ever met, with the way he slings his arm around Riddick, leans on him, gives direction through a touch on the shoulder. It's all casual though, or at least without any further intention, even in those quiet moments when Johns presses close and still like he's reassuring himself of Riddick's solidity, which is an impulse Riddick understands all too well.

Riddick has always just accepted that this is what they are. It's the only way he and Johns can be, balanced parts that never push or pull too hard. Things don't just topple when the pair of them aren't in equilibrium; they go into gravitational collapse, and by the time the fireworks are over, there's nothing left but a black hole. Riddick doesn't ever want to go there again, to that empty place where Johns is gone. So even if wanting is the better part of Riddick's nature, he doesn't try to tip the scales. He doesn't ignore it either. He just lets his need live side-by-side with his gratitude, because he's still lucky for everything that Johns has ever given him. And maybe, Johns is the act of faith the Imam always hoped Riddick would choose.

* * *

Boss looks so soft and sated the next time they see him that no one has the heart to give him any shit about it. Luna, a beacon of light to begin with, glows like a supernova as he goes through the usual routine. When it comes to chow time, Luna slides into Boss' lap without an ounce of self-consciousness. Boss musters a glare at the rest of them, as if he expects trouble, then regally goes about the business of taking in a meal with Luna in the way. The only thing Boss might have to worry about is drowning in Dahl's smug approval, as if she had anything to do with it.

After dinner and clean-up, they spread across the galley like they always do, discussing upcoming marks. Boss takes his usual place on the folded stack of sparring mats against the wall. Luna slumps back against his chest, and Boss drapes his arm across Luna like a seat belt without seeming to think about it. He starts talking about how he's gonna make up to them for the payday they lost on Tangrel.

Dahl waves him off, but Boss lays out plans for an even bigger op anyway. It's a solid plan, like Boss' usually are. Riddick tries to identify the feeling he gets from seeing the sleepy, content look on Luna's face and the way Boss just accepts him there. He wonders if anyone else can smell them the way he does. It makes it seem like they're taking up the whole goddamn galley. Still, Riddick decides he's happy for them if a little skeptical that shit will work out over the long term. That's where the bitter taste must be coming from about this. Worry that they might fuck this up.

Even in his head, Riddick won't even consider the thought that what he tastes might be envy.

* * *

The cop uniform pants are okay, but the shirt is the most asinine piece of clothing Riddick has ever worn. If a shirt's gonna have sleeves, it should goddamn well have sleeves with a purpose. This piece of shit shirt though, has sleeves that end halfway down his biceps, like they're trying to choke his arms. Riddick vows to himself to make Boss pay for this job.

They're in a pretty flush system, which means a good payday, but it also means local military and law enforcement is actually halfway competent. Which also generally means the criminals get more sophisticated. Everyone rises to their own inspired level of fuckery. Therefore, the system hasn't outright banned mercs yet, but they're not about to extend any courtesies, such as overlooking a warrant as notorious as Riddick's.

Boss growled around enough about needing all hands on deck that Johns came at Riddick with the uniform like it was all some elaborate con. And really, it is. If the only way Riddick can watch Johns' six is if he wears a goddamn badge, he's going to wear a goddamn badge. And the fuckin' ball cap Boss threw at him too. He'll get 'em back for it somehow, but for the time being, he clips the badge to the pressed front of his neatly tucked in shirt, and then makes sure he can still move well enough to reach into the blade harness he wears over the top of everything. His mobility seems okay.

Riddick growls in his chest and steps out of the head, straight into Johns. Johns mutters an apology and shuffles half a step back before he really seems to take in the obstacle that blocks his path. He blinks at Riddick a moment, then leans away a little to look Riddick down and back up. They have the lights down on the ship again, so Johns' eyes are dilated as they rake over Riddick in the dark. Johns takes a deep breath and puts his hands on Riddick's shoulders.

"Well," he says, smoothing at wrinkles Riddick knows aren't there. "You clean up decent."

Johns' hands dart to the badge, toying with it like it can get somehow straighter and more lawful looking. He crinkles his forehead and finally tugs at the stupid sleeves. His fingers are cool against Riddick's triceps.

"Little tight?" Johns asks.

Riddick snorts. The collar of the shirt has inexplicably begun to choke him. Johns runs a finger over the embroidered tag that says "Phillips" on one side of Riddick's chest. Riddick thinks he's gonna snap his teeth shut on the next part of Johns that touches him. Johns finally takes a real step back. He shakes his head at something.

"We're lucky Jesse's shit fits you at all, really," he says.

"Yeah, lucky," Riddick says, managing to convey both suspicion and resentment.

Johns cracks a grin and says, "It's not so bad. You might wanna reconsider your position on it. Your one pair of aviators away from looking like the kind of party trick they pay a lot of money for in the Lupus System."

Riddick arches an eyebrow and feels something feral pull at his mouth. He licks his lips and stares Johns down as he drags his hands up from his belt and deliberately peels open the top couple of buttons of the choking shirt. He can't stop his mouth from twitching while he does it.

"Fucking hell," Johns says with a sharp laugh and shoves at him playfully before ducking into the head.

Riddick smirks all the way to the drop ship.

* * *

Riddick has been known to pick up strays now and then, but he's pretty sure no one's going to let him keep this particular souvenir. Johns is in the driver's seat, like he somehow always is, and the passenger cabin behind them is _loud_.

"You were too scared!"

"Nu uh!"

"Aw, I shoulda recorded that!"

"I got some pictures!"

"You guys are such suckasses. It wasn't even that cool."

" _You're_ not even that cool."

Boss' plans don't generally go this sideways, but there was no way for them to account for the operation moving off-world to the orbital transfer station or for the grade school field trip everything just happened on top of.

Riddick knows he and Johns left the others with the short end of a desperate and violent stick when they took off with the kids, but he doubts anyone will hold it against them. They're already halfway back down to the planet, and Riddick is trying not to be too amused about the fact that Johns is driving a fucking school bus. The kids in the back think it's the best field trip ever.

But there's one kid that's not in the back. She's on _Riddick's_ back, her shoes tucked into his blade harness where it circles his midsection while she keeps her balance with an arm around the back of his neck. She's the smallest of all of them, the quietest too, but Riddick doesn't doubt for one second that she's the strongest civilian on this ship. As soon as they were underway, she left her seat and climbed him like a tree--like he's just another fixture in her life. She seems perfectly comfortable watching Johns and all the flight information over Riddick's shoulder with hawk-like eyes.

Riddick sways gently forward, as if she's pushing him, and reaches out to rest his hand on the back of Johns' seat. He wants to do more than that, get closer somehow. Maybe even pretend the three of them are the only ones on the ship. Everything is just so _right_. After almost going Epic Bad Day wrong.

The first part of the op went smooth, but that only lasted until they touched down planetside and got a notification from Planetary Security that their marks had breached atmo in a near-orbit transfer vessel, which meant the only place they could be headed was the Orbital Transfer Station. Best guess, the bounties started to feel the heat and thought it was time to find a freighter to anywhere else. Beside a little good natured bitching about wasted time, Boss and the crew didn't much care about the change of scenery until they got on-station and tripped over a bunch of half-pints learning about exciting careers checking interstellar baggage or something.

Johns had muttered a "For fuck's sake" and dutifully coordinated with station security to get the kids evaced. The rest of the crew took one look at Riddick and decided to leave the kids to him while they went deeper into the station, hoping to head off the marks before they got anywhere near the class trip. Riddick told Johns to take point until they got the kids to their departure gate. Johns lifted an eyebrow at the command but didn't question it.

They almost had all the kids funneled into the transport when the six armed bounties swept into the terminal. It was just Johns, Riddick, a security officer, and the teacher trying to wrangle sixteen students in various states of panic and excitement. Johns and the security officer walled up between the intruders and the kids while Riddick and the teacher chased the last of them onto the ship. Riddick tried to get the teacher to go too, but she shook her head, said she couldn't fly it. The security officer was their pilot.

With them being outgunned, it became a negotiation then. The marks wanted hostages, they wanted the kids, they wanted the transport, none of which Riddick thought anyone was willing to give them. But the teacher broke ranks and offered herself. Riddick and Johns tried to coax her back, but she kept going, until one of the marks yanked her in and snarled that she was a good start.

Riddick remembers having his teeth bared when the security doors on the other side of the terminal burst open. Boss and Dahl charged in with half a division of planetary security officers, all of them with weapons up. One of the marks pressed a gun to the teacher's head.

That's when the girl came out of the gangway. But she was less of a girl and more of a missile. She shot past Riddick and out ahead of Johns, letting out a rising scream of rage, before anyone even knew what she was. She was small and fast and terrifying enough that Riddick could smell the panic that rolled out from the group of hunted men. She was a tiny, enraged thing, coming for them, against all known rules of engagement, and she scared the shit out of them. Their guns swung down toward her.

Riddick knows he shouted at Johns, but some buried memory sent a spike of fear through him so deep that he lunged forward, even though Johns was closer. In the shadows of Riddick's mind, a long-dead version of Johns grinned cruelly and did nothing. For just a moment, Riddick couldn't separate that Johns from _his_ Johns, and he felt something inside himself crack and split. He shattered, breaking out of himself with how hard and fast he surged past that stationary memory. All that mattered was reaching the girl in time.

But _his_ Johns was fast too, faster than him, not heavy with the same things that bogged Riddick down. A wild shot ricocheted off the floor, and Riddick felt like he wasn't moving at all as he watched his _everything_ throw down his gauge and dive into the line of fire. Some exothermic reaction instantly fused all the cracks inside Riddick back together--all of his weaknesses fortified with the reality of what _this_ Johns was-- even while some other part of him buckled with a new kind of fear. Johns turned his back to the incoming bullets and curled himself around the girl-missile, carrying enough momentum to tackle them both behind a security kiosk.

Riddick only realized he was still moving when a bullet grazed his shoulder, then he landed on top of Johns and the girl. They'd all stared at one another while bits and pieces of the kiosk exploded into the air over them. Then Johns looked the kid over hard.

"You okay?" he'd asked.

She'd turned wide brown eyes on him and asked, "Are you?"

They were both caged under Riddick, and the crumpled part of him imploded altogether when the merc and the girl smiled at each other in his arms. Then Johns pushed him off and set the kid on his hip, eyes busy scanning for an escape route. On the other side of the terminal, Boss, Dahl, the pilot who'd lunged for the reinforcements instead of the kid, and the rest of the security team finally laid down cover fire.

Johns got the three of them onto the transport. By the time Riddick had the hatch sealed, Johns was just finishing strapping the girl into the front row seat. Johns said something to her, but Riddick's blood was too loud in his ears for him to make it out. Then Johns was in the pilot seat, disengaging the docking clamps and hauling ass away from the station. Riddick had stood behind him, numb because shock and awe was suddenly more than a military campaign strategy to him.

Now there's the warm weight of a girl on his back, and Riddick knows, incontrovertibly, that this Johns, this time, is flawless.

The girl readjusts the hold she has on Riddick's neck and squints at Johns' profile.

"Is Johns your _o'omaa_?" she asks.

Maybe Johns told her who they were when he was belting her in or she just read it off his chest. Or maybe that's what Riddick had yelled in the middle of the all that shit back there. Either way, Riddick doesn't know what _o'omaa_ means, but since Johns is his everything, he just nods. The girl nods back, as if he has simply confirmed what she already knew.

"I like that he's pretty and smells good," the girl says.

Johns chokes and actually blushes. Riddick grins as the full here and now washes back over him. He says, "Me too."

Johns laughs and turns to look up at them both. There's unbearable fondness in his eyes. "What's your name, kid?" he asks.

"Naobe," she replies.

"Well, Naobe, I think you're pretty too," Johns says.

He winks at her. She rolls her eyes at him, but smiles and blushes too, and then she lays her head on Riddick's shoulder and seems content.

Back in atmo, Johns lands the craft directly at a Planetary Security Depot, which Riddick tries not to have any feelings about. There's already a swarm of people crowding the landing pad, and when Johns pops the hatch, the kids spill out into their waiting parent's arms. Naobe doesn't let go of Riddick though. Johns goes for the hatch, and Riddick reluctantly follows. Naobe is alert but has said nothing. The fingers of her right hand fist into the sleeve of his shirt. Riddick raises an arm and reaches back, settling his hand on the back of her neck reassuringly. She relaxes minutely.

Again, Riddick feels that sense of possessiveness that he knows isn't his right. He hesitates on the steps, and Johns stops and turns, as if he can sense it. He looks up at Riddick and Naobe again, and Riddick wonders what he looks like with this strangely calm but potentially explosive form of energy on his shoulder. She's like a bird of prey, Riddick thinks. She's still and quiet for the most part, but she'll take your eyes out if she wants. It could be that she only chose Riddick because he makes the most suitable perch. But the way her arm has curved around his head, her skin several shades darker than his own, and the way she rests her hand on the top of his skull like she owns him, makes Riddick feel _chosen_. The ends of her braids drag over his arm when she shifts her head in that bird-like way again to look past Johns at what's happening outside. She's too alert, too calm, too fierce for any normal child, and Riddick is too keenly aware of his bond to wild things.

Johns must see it in him, like he's reading a weapon's manual, because any sense of questioning softens away from his face. He still shakes his head though.

" _No_ , Rick," he says gently.

Riddick swallows convulsively. He's not sure how much more of this shit he can take. It's not just that Johns knows him like he's in his head with him. Or that he won't let Riddick slide down the slippery slope of coveting things that aren't his to keep. It's the way Johns has taken the middle syllable out of his name and pocketed it, like he holds a piece of Riddick himself captive. If this afternoon was the girl choosing Riddick, this moment is Johns _claiming_ him. _Rick_ belongs to Johns, and Riddick will never let any other person use it.

Naobe turns her head and whispers "Rick?" into his ear and giggles.

Riddick snorts. Okay. Maybe one other person.

The gentle look isn't quite gone from Johns' face when he turns back around to lead them onto the tarmac. They emerge from the transport, and the security chief hurries over to say how thankful she is for their service. The woman informs them that the situation on the station is almost fully resolved, five marks down, one to go, hostages out of harm's way. She tells them their captain has given them orders to standby; they'll regroup planetside. Johns accepts this with ease, while Riddick thinks Boss is a prick for asking him to sit tight at a fuckin' cop shop.

Riddick doesn't miss the way the chief eyes him and Naobe either, but he has to give her credit for not saying anything right away. She offers to have a medic look at Riddick's arm, but Johns knows what Riddick's limits are and asks for a medkit instead. The chief offers a stiff nod and sends someone to fetch the supplies. Then she eyes Naobe again.

"Are your parents here?" she asks.

Naobe shakes her head and lifts her arm, pointing to the sky. "My mother is still up there."

Which is when it suddenly makes sense to Riddick. Why she's so much smaller than the other students. Why she ran out into the middle of the firefight. The teacher is her mother.

The chief gives Johns an alarmed look, which Johns shuts down by turning to the girl and saying, "They're right behind us, Naobe."

Naobe nods and rests her chin on the bone of Riddick's shoulder.

"In the meantime, we've got a social worker inside who would love to meet you," the chief says, holding her arms out to Naobe.

Naobe shrinks down against Riddick's back, her hands clawing into him. Riddick's lip curls up and he growls, "I don't think so."

"We got her," Johns says, much more tactfully than Riddick managed. "I mean, we're all waiting for the same group of folks to get here, right?"

Johns moves closer to Riddick's side to rub soothingly at Naobe's back. The girl loosens her talons from Riddick's flesh. The chief turns her reach into a placating gesture and nods, leading them into the station. She takes them into an observation room just off the bullpen. The room is glass fronted, and it's like being in a museum display, but there's a gray laminate table and even a small red couch. The chief passes Johns a medkit before she shuts the door on them.

"All right, Naobe," Johns says. "You're gonna hafta let me have him for a couple minutes."

Riddick steps closer to the couch so that she can dismount onto its arm. She hops off of him and flops down on the cushions with a sigh. Riddick huffs out a laugh and takes a seat in one of the composite plastic chairs at the table. Johns sits next to him and spills the medkit out over the gray tabletop. He grabs the scissors and reaches for Riddick's torn sleeve, but Riddick snorts and reaches up, ripping the whole sleeve off at the seam.

"You've been wanting to do that for hours, haven't you?" Johns asks, tossing the scissors back onto the table with a crooked smile.

Riddick honestly can't think of a snappy comeback, so it's just as well that Naobe says, "They look like they're trying to eat his arms."

Johns laughs. "Yeah, they kinda do."

He pokes once at the shallow wound in Riddick's upper arm then sorts through the spilled medkit, looking for antiseptic. Naobe wanders over from the couch and weaves right between them, standing between Johns knees to peer critically at the oozing gash. Johns reaches around her and swipes at the line with some kind of overly caustic antiseptic. The cut foams for a moment. Naobe wrinkles her nose.

"That's the stingy kind," she says.

The antiseptic does burn a little worse than most, but Riddick can't say he even really notices these things anymore. When the foaming goes down, Johns takes another swipe at the wound, cleaning up any blood drips and pressing more of the burning liquid into the ragged flesh.

"Well, now you're just being mean," Riddick says.

"Aw, you can handle it, tough guy," Johns teases and lifts the antiseptic pad like he's gonna get Riddick with it again.

Naobe punches him in the thigh. Johns gives a theatrical yelp and clutches at his new injury.

"Okay, mercy!" he cries.

Naobe looks pleased while Riddick laughs at them. Johns looks up at Riddick with eyes that are so soft and overindulgent that they fucking sparkle. He flashes Riddick a smirk behind Naobe's back. Naobe reaches past Johns to extract some bandages from the table. When she has trouble tearing the package open, Johns reaches around her again, circling her with both arms to place his fingers alongside hers. They pull the hermetic seal open together, and then Johns helps Naobe position the bandage over the bullet graze.

"Wanna hold it while I tape it?" Johns asks.

"You hold it," Naobe answers.

"Yes, ma'am," Johns says, shooting Riddick an amused look.

They both watch Naobe duck under Johns' arm and stretch halfway across the table to reach the tape that rolled out of the medkit. She grabs the scissors on the way back too, and then peels a careful length of tape free, measuring it against the edge of the bandage before snipping it loose from the roll. She smooths it carefully along the bottom of the bandage, like she's taping a seam on something she's gift wrapping. She doesn't wrinkle the tape or the bandage at all.

"Nice work," Johns says mildly.

Naobe gets the sides next, so Johns doesn't have to hold the bandage in place anymore. After she's cut the last length of tape, Johns wraps one arm around her waist and boosts her up a little higher so she can reach the top of the bandage. She uses one hand to clutch his arm where it holds her around the middle, and so each of them use their free hand on either end of the tape to lay it down against Riddick's skin. Riddick plans to tell them they've done a nice job too, but he gets distracted by the way they both start stroking his arm to make sure the tape is sticking. Riddick lets out a rumble of laughter that's both embarrased and unaccountably pleased.

"Don't tell anyone he likes to be babied," Johns whispers to Naobe.

She giggles then giggles harder when Johns gives her a quick tickle when he sets her down.

"Oh fuck off," Riddick says.

Johns points a stern finger and an unimpressed stare at him. Riddick winces and looks at Naobe, saying, "You didn't learn that from me."

Naobe laughs. "No. I didn't. My mom says that all the time."

"Obviously an educated woman then," Riddick concludes.

"Probably smarter than the pair of us put together, right?" Johns says, winking at Naobe.

"Well, I mean," Naobe says, then waves her hand in a dismissive gesture and wanders back to the couch.

Riddick grins at the pure cheek of her. He follows her to the couch and flops down, right in the spot she was about to claim. She huffs and climbs onto the couch next to him.

"Rude," she says. Then, "I'm hungry."

Johns shakes his head at the pair of them and goes to the door. He pokes his head out and flags the first officer passing by. It's someone in a Narco uniform who does a double take and gives him a hard look.

"Can we get a snack for the kid?" Johns asks, like he doesn't notice the scrutiny.

The dark-haired officer looks past him into the room, then nods. He leaves without saying anything, but both Riddick and Johns felt the moment of recognition. Johns shuts the door but gazes off in the direction the officer went.

"Old friend?" Riddick asks quietly.

"Not that I know of," Johns says and leaves it at that.

The same officer comes back with some crackers and a juice box. He hands them off through the door, eyeing Johns up and down all over again. Riddick feels a growl growing inside him, but more than that, he feels Naobe tensing up at his side.

"What?" she asks in a guarded whisper.

"Nothing," Riddick says then tries out a crooked grin on her. "I just don't like cops."

She takes a brief look at his badge and then a more significant one at Johns.

"I only like _my_ cop," Riddick clarifies.

Both Johns and Naobe snort at him. Johns comes back to the couch, and Naobe shoves herself into Riddick's side to make room for Johns to sit. He squeezes down next to her and hands her the bag of opened crackers before setting to work on the getting the straw in the juice box. Riddick and Naobe turn to watch him when he starts muttering about it. He eventually stabs the straw through the seal, but not without shooting juice half a meter across the room. Naobe's snicker is downright judgmental when she wriggles forward to snatch the juice box out of Johns' hand. When she moves, Johns and Riddick sink together into the dip in the middle of the couch. Naobe sits back, not seeming to mind that the space for her has disappeared. She leans back on Riddick's chest and stretches her legs across Johns' thigh, sipping on her juice box. Johns shrugs a little and yawns, sinking deeper into the couch and leaning harder into Riddick's shoulder.

"Christ, what a day," he mutters and closes his eyes.

Riddick stretches both his arms across the back of the couch and tips his head back. What a day, indeed.

He never actually falls asleep, but Johns and Naobe do. The juice box falls to the floor and the crackers spill all over Riddick's uniform pants. He's pinned to the couch by two bodies, and it's easily the most comfortable he's ever been in a police station. He slits an eye when the door opens and the chief comes in with the teacher a step behind her. Of course, Boss and the rest of the crew are right outside the glass, looking in on them like they're a zoo exhibit. Luna grabs Boss' arm and starts pleading with him about something. Boss just smirks.

Naobe's mother takes a moment, covering her mouth with her hands, eyes tearing up a little. Riddick nods to her and taps Johns' outside shoulder to wake him up. Johns blinks awake as Naobe's mother steps forward and kneels in front of Riddick, reaching out to touch her daughter's face where she's slumped down across Riddick's lap. Naobe sits up, startled at the touch, and looks blearily up at Riddick before swinging her eyes to her mother.

"Mama!" she screeches and spills out of Riddick's lap into her mother's arms.

Riddick figures that's as clear a cue as any for him to make an exit. He stands and edges away from the couch, past the tearful heap on the floor that doesn't even know he exists anymore. He's never felt less needed. Johns catches up to him before he reaches the door, grabbing his elbow. He knows Johns is gonna say something, but then a weight careens into the back of his legs. The way she climbs him is already familiar. She pokes her head over his shoulder.

"You should come back some time," she says, as casually as a kid can.

"Sure, kid," Riddick says with what even he knows is an unconvincing smile.

Naobe makes a face at him and turns to Johns who hovers apprehensively at Riddick's side. She reaches out and grabs the front of Johns' shirt, yanking on him so he bumps into Riddick's shoulder.

"You then," she says. "My mom says I need male role models in my life."

It's possible that Dahl starts having a seizure outside the open doorway, but Riddick is too busy choking down his own half hysterical laughs. Johns grins and reaches up to pull Naobe off of Riddick's back. It says something how easily she lets go and settles onto Johns' hip. Johns smacks Riddick's arm and turns back toward Naobe's mother, who waits behind them holding a handful of her linen skirt and looking on with an uncertain smile. Riddick turns with them, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Listen, if your mom says it's okay, we'll check in on you if you want," Johns says.

He smiles at Naobe's mother and moves closer to offer Naobe back to her. Naobe's mother takes her daughter on her own hip and nods. Her braids are much longer than Naobe's, looped once at the back of her neck and still falling past the small of her back. Riddick tries to distract himself by wondering how long it would take to make so many fine, long braids. Dreads are one thing, but neats braids are another. He can't even imagine. This is why he shaves his head.

"My mom's name is Suambe," Naobe says helpfully.

"We would be delighted to have you all come to dinner some time," Suambe says, bravely, Riddick thinks. The crew eats a lot.

"That's very generous. Maybe we'll have to have a old-fashioned barbeque soon," Johns says.

It's all so weirdly normal and civil that Riddick is practically getting hives. He's thinking about _hair_ , for fuck's sake.

"We'll be in touch," he manages to grumble and turns again for the exit.

" _Rick_ ," Johns says, and there's no missing the consternation in his tone.

Riddick just keeps walking, because he is an escape artist after all. He almost makes it out the door this time, but there's the sound of a scuffle behind him, and then she crashes into him again. This time she doesn't climb him. She just wraps herself around his legs.

"Promise!" she demands.

It sounds kind of watery, and Riddick knows he's fucked. Kids have always taken him out at the knees. Johns knew it, back in the day, and the only thing more dangerous than an enemy knowing that this is his weakness is the damn kids themselves knowing it. There's nothing he can do about it though.

He reaches down and pulls Naobe free of his legs, then lifts her, holding her against his belly so she can look him in the face. She wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing him into a tight hug. He can feel how relieved she is. He's relieved too. Fuck, even Johns looks relieved. Riddick thinks it's a good goddamn thing he has Johns around to let him know when to quit being a hardass.

"I promise, okay?" Riddick says.

He gets Naobe to lean back and really look at him. He pulls his goggles up, and she peers into his silvered eyes. She cocks her head as she studies him, reminding him of a bird again, but she doesn't seem surprised or uncomfortable the way most people do.

"Okay?" he repeats.

"Okay," she says.

She kisses his cheek and then wriggles out of his arms, flitting back to her mother. Suambe looks bemused, and Riddick gets that. He really does. He'd wonder what this was all about in her place. There's some kind of patience in her though, that tells him she's trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, for the sake of her daughter. Maybe even for his sake. Riddick tries not to let that get to him. Really, he's never done anything to deserve the things people seem willing to give him these days.

Johns claps a hand on his shoulder and waves to Naobe one more time before steering him out the door. The crew falls into step together, moving out of the bullpen.

"That was… interesting," Stern says.

"Don't you mean surreal?" Dahl counters.

Riddick doesn't bother to answer them. They head for the station exit and make it maybe halfway there before Luna speaks up.

"Come on, Raph. We'd be great parents."

" _Jesus Christ_ ," Johns groans.

"I _am_ a goddamn parent, Luna!" Boss snaps.

"Holy hell, y'all need to take a honeymoon and work your shit out--away from us," Stern mutters.

"Raph?" Riddick asks.

" _Raphael_ ," Johns wheezes, like this - _this_ \- is the thing that's just too much for him.

"Seriously?" Riddick snickers.

"No, you may _not_ , _Richard_ ," Boss says significantly.

Riddick raises both hands in the universal sign for surrender.

"I need a vacation," Stern mutters to no one in particular.

"It honestly may be time, Boss," Dahl says.

Boss grumbles something, and Riddick snaps his goggles back down against the light spilling through the doorway ahead. They're going out the back, and as late in the day as it has gotten, it still looks bright as hell out there. The chief stands at the door with a folder under her arm and shakes each of their hands as they step out. When she grasps Riddick, she doesn't let go until there's some distance between him and the rest of the crew. He's automatically wary, but he's calm enough to let it play out.

The chief lifts the folder and says, "I just thought I'd give you a copy of this and let you know I have it."

She lets his hand go, and Riddick takes the folder. Inside is a hard copy image of Johns asleep on his shoulder and Naobe sprawled across both their laps. The capture is from some high vantage point, obviously a security camera, and for a moment, Riddick seethes.

"Why?" he growls.

"To remind myself why I'm going to let a million dollar bounty walk out of my station," the chief answers.

Ice begins to seep into Riddick's veins. It should be soothing to the brief flare of his rage, but instead, everything is just muddled. He isn't sure how he's supposed to react.

"Also, maybe that will help you keep your word to her," the chief says. "Knowing you have a free pass in my sector."

Riddick looks at the picture again and chews on everything for a long time. It occurs to him that he should probably thank this woman. He's not sure he can though. They're words he just doesn't know how to say, especially to a stranger. Eventually, he pulls his goggles up, squinting against the light coming in from outside, and offers his hand. The police chief shakes it with a firm grip. This time, it feels genuine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. I fought like hell with it, and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it, but it did get to where I wanted it to go, more or less, so I figured I shouldn't hang onto it any longer. On the upside, it's a bit longer... I dunno. This is the most unsure I've ever been about something I've posted. 
> 
> Your thoughts and reassurances will be greatly appreciated! The good news is that Chapter 4 shouldn't be near as difficult, since it's already half done. *Author has problems writing linearly.*


	4. To Devour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware of E-Ratings. 
> 
> Author believes this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1HWdLbTi_zs) goes well with the first scene. Possibly this [one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hr9TaQw-L-M) also.
> 
>  _ETA_ : This chapter has been newly edited, August 30, 2020. See end for further notes.

One of the places Riddick sleeps most often is the main hanger. While three Hogs are stored on the drop ship, there are two spares here, along with two medium-duty UTVs and a souped-up chase coupe that Riddick can't even imagine they'll ever have a use for. It's where the weapon's locker is as well as all the tools and maintenance equipment. The bay has higher clearance than any other hold in the ship but is still only about a four and a half meter ceiling. Even so, it's the highest ground Riddick can find out here.

After he climbs up a mechanical access ladder and wedges himself up over a relay and control panel, Riddick crawls until his own sounds are closer in his ears, and he knows he's found a tight enough spot that no one will pick the shape of him out from the other dark bulges and bends of conduit and ductwork. Riddick lays himself in the hard valley between two wide pipes. The light from the hanger bay is muted; thankfully, all the fixtures are pointed down at the floor.

There's a faint ozone smell, something that parks in the back of Riddick's throat. He appreciates it today more than he ever has before. The hanger is the only place left on the ship that doesn't have that salty-sweet stinging tang in the air from Boss and Luna. Riddick has no idea how no one else can smell that. It's starting to drive him crazy. It makes his mouth water until he wants to spit. Or find some other way to stem the tide.

Riddick sighs and stretches out. The pipes keep his body in perfectly merciless alignment as he drops into his own form of stasis. It's easy to do. The ship's systems, no matter how efficient, generate excess heat that bleeds out here, and there's a soft, reassuring mechanical hum that can't lie to Riddick about what the ship is doing.

Riddick doesn't have to travel like this anymore-- staying close to an exit, on-guard against anything that might turn against him. But old habits die hard. Kinda like him. Boss offered him a bunk of his own once. He declined. Boss left the offer open but no one seems particularly troubled about where Riddick sleeps. Riddick doesn't intend to trouble himself about it much either.

 _Good morning, Sunshine_ , Johns still murmurs in the back of his head.

That's not what wakes him up, but it's close enough. Rather, it's Johns whistling to himself, something jaunty and off-key as he crosses the bay from the bulkhead door to the work bench on the far side of the hanger. Riddick knows it's him by the tempo of his walk, the tone of his whistle, and the faint, faint smell of him. God, he smells good.

Riddick rolls over onto his belly, inching sideways so he can look down past the curve of the pipe.

Johns turns on the jury-rigged sound system mounted to the wall above the work bench and fiddles around for a while before he finds some music selection he doesn't make a disgusted noise at. Then he rifles through drawers for who-the-hell-knows-what. He already machined all new turbine pins for the Hogs after being regaled with a story about his dad and Riddick fighting their way through mud scorpions on foot courtesy of one of Luna's ex-teammates. He put shaft keys on the pins, which oughtta make it at least a little less of a casual deal to disable the Hogs. Riddick thinks it's a way more comprehensive plan than taping spare pins to the bike chassis, which is what Boss did for a while.

This is the thing about Johns though. He thinks about this shit. He plans ahead. Learns from the mistakes, even the ones other people make. That's where he and Riddick are different. It's not about skill sets or even intelligence. It's the fact that Johns is proactive and Riddick has never been anything but reactive. Riddick's whole life has just happened to him, and he's been quick enough, tough enough, smart enough to survive it. Johns is quick enough, tough enough, smart enough, _and_ stays one step ahead. He's made of a lot of the same things as Riddick, but he's an entirely different animal.

And Johns _is_ an animal. The animal in Riddick recognizes it every time he watches Johns melt into a hunt, turning into a prowling thing that licks his eyeteeth and tilts his head at the slightest sound. It's all primal for Johns, instinct taking over the way most humans have forgotten how, and Riddick loves watching Johns' civility fall away when he goes in for the kill, eyes flashing, his every move hard, fast, and viciously efficient. Like every apex predator, Johns is a languid, regal thing at rest, but that's only because he knows how fast he can tear you apart.

It's all part of what makes them matched. _Alpha to Alpha_ , Riddick thinks, his arm tightening around the pipe he lays across.

Johns grabs his tools and a work light. He kicks his shit under one of the UTVs then drops down, lying on his back and shoving himself half under the truck. Riddick can't even begin to guess what he's doing this time, so he works himself back, easing out of the ceiling and back down the ladder. He crosses the hanger silently and leans against one of the Hogs, watching Johns from a few paces away.

There isn't any clanking. Johns isn't doing any major mechanical alterations. There are scraping noises once in a while, and when Johns stretches up to reach something, his henley pulls out of his pants and begins to ride up his torso.

Johns' belly is flat and warm looking, the same clean, bright tone as the rest of him, and Riddick's head tips as the hem of Johns' shirt flirts with his navel. For a brief moment, the muscles on Johns' belly tense, pressing his skin into a landscape of subtle ridges and hollows before the strain goes out of his body and he eases back into smooth marble.

Riddick's mouth waters again, but he can't blame this on Boss or Luna, and he doesn't have to wonder what would sate this need. He wants to find those hidden dips and valleys between Johns' muscles with his tongue and know what they taste like. Johns lifts his hips, just a little, just enough to scoot to the left, and Riddick wants to straddle him-- to be a heavy, hungry counterweight against the next motion Johns makes with his hips.

Riddick can't quite stop the pleased growl that vibrates somewhere in his chest. _Alpha to Alpha_ , he thinks again, even while he hopes he was quiet enough that he hasn't given himself away.

But Johns goes still. Then he twists to the side enough to peer out from under the truck at Riddick. His body relaxes in recognition, and he bends one knee to ease the bow of his spine. It pushes his thighs wider apart, and Riddick imagines sliding right into that space. Johns glances around, presumably looking for anyone else, then quirks a curious eyebrow at Riddick.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks when Riddick doesn't say anything.

 _Mercy_ , Riddick thinks but manages to shrug at Johns.

Johns stares at him for a few moments longer, something almost expectant in his eyes, then he jerks his head toward the tool bench. "Well, make yourself useful then and get me a handful of the small splices."

Riddick stiffly gets up and tries to change the track his brain is on. "The cheap ones or the ones Dahl picked up?"

"Make it the good ones, with the heat shrink, and grab me a torch too," Johns answers.

Johns explains something about bypassing the standard trailering module and rewiring for new adapters that will give them direct control on auxiliary power, lights, braking, and hydraulics, but Riddick has trouble paying attention. He doesn't leave though. He stands by and brings Johns whatever he needs.

* * *

Dahl walks onto the bridge and screams. Riddick could have warned her, but he thinks it's funnier this way. It's not his fault she can't smell Boss and Luna the way he can. Dahl backpedals and slams the button to shut the hydraulic door. Then she hits the closed metal with her fist.

"We're taking shore leave!" she shouts at the shut door. " _Now_!"

Riddick and Johns retreat the way they came, turning tail and heading back down the corridor, no further explanation needed. Johns detours them through the bunk level. He stops at his door and sidles inside.

Thing about the bunks is that they're fuckin' tiny. It partly explains Boss and Luna's indiscretions. Each bunk is only long enough for an extra long single mattress to fit lengthwise against the back wall and wide enough for a body to stand next to the bed as long as they keep their arms down. There's storage over the bed, albeit not a lot, since there's enough head room in the bunk itself to sit up without having to worry about a concussion. There's a narrow shelf along the front wall for necessities, the kind of place where normal people would drop their wallet or stash a bottle of water for the night.

Johns keeps a pile of half-chewed cedar toothpicks there, along with a few shotgun cartridges. And his tablet, leaned up against the wall. He grabs it then shoves Riddick's head back out the door where he'd craned inside to take a deep breath and a look around. Johns doesn't even seem to think this is weird. He just moves Riddick out of his path like the permanent orbital object that he is. He shuts the door before tagging Riddick's arm and leading them back toward the rec room.

"Been thinking," Johns says, fiddling with the tablet as he walks.

"How worried should I be?" Riddick counters with a smirk.

Johns is predictably unfazed by the reply and continues to tap at the screen in his hands. "Well, that depends, doesn't it. I mean. That narco cop?"

Riddick sobers immediately. "If you'd been stupid enough to catch any warrants, your pops woulda been the first one to know about it."

"I was stupid enough to get hooked on the shit in the first place," Johns points out.

The way he says it, so matter of fact, even though it's something this incarnation of him never did… he carries it like he _did_ do it. Like there's a potentially bottomless chasm of transgressions in his soul that neither of them even know about. Riddick wishes there had been some other way to protect Johns than giving him a reason to doubt himself. The harshest part of reality though is knowing your own weaknesses, and Johns isn't the kind of coward to ignore his.

"Knowing me, if I got in trouble, it wasn't on the legal side. But that's what bothers me," Johns says.

"The crossover factor?" Riddick asks.

"Yeah, what do you think the stats are on dirty narco cops anyway?" Johns asks, though he sounds pretty rhetorical about it.

Grudgingly, Riddick has to admit, "That does sound like you. Finding the crookedest motherfuckers in law enforcement to meet your needs."

Johns throws him a playfully offended look.

"You _then_ ," Riddick amends with a bemused shake of his head.

Unexpectedly, Johns laughs. Riddick stares at him.

"You just say it like I'm an angel now," Johns says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Riddick stops at the rec room door, turning his back to it and looking Johns up and down. He tries to dredge up some memory of what an angel is supposed to be. His mind comes up with an abstract figure, gilded in gold, wielding a fiery sword in righteous fury. It's way too easy to give the figure Johns' luminous eyes, defined cheekbones, and soft curls. The illusion fades quickly back into what's actually in front of him, but that doesn't mean what he sees is any less radiant.

Johns starts to flush under the scrutiny. "Hey," he says softly.

"You're different this time," Riddick says.

He could tell Johns all that he is, but it would take a while, longer than Riddick wants to make Johns wait. Johns' self-doubt, uncharacteristic as it is, is a tangible thing between them. Riddick just shakes his head at it with easy denial, and just like that, it shudders and dies, melting off of Johns so that he's solid and sure once again. Johns' eyes seek out Riddick in the dark corridor, pupils dilated, and he reaches out. His fingers catch Riddick by the back of the neck and pull him in until their foreheads touch in that intimate way that has become familiar between them.

"Why, Rick?" Johns asks, something deep and almost weary in his tone.

Riddick shouldn't know what Johns is asking, but answers flood his mind anyway. Because Johns is the thing that stays with him. He's the light that Riddick found in the dark chaos of his existence, and he's the thing that's shown Riddick that miracles are possible. All you gotta do is get a taste, know that there's something out there for you, some possibility or hint of what could be, and that one sip of righteousness might be what drives the rest of your life. Maybe that's the universe's greatest trick-- giving enough hell to make someone appreciate what they get in the end. Either way, Riddick doesn't wonder about an afterlife or Underverse or being worthy of anything anymore. Because he's already been through it all and shit out the other end. Johns was there in the beginning, Johns is what he found on the other side, and Johns is all he'll ever need.

Riddick doesn't know a sane way to say any of this, so he takes Johns by the scruff of the neck and tells him, "You're everything you were ever meant to be. Don't let ghosts make you think otherwise."

Johns just hums softly, implicit acceptance flowing into Riddick through all their points of contact. There's a lot that Riddick doesn't know how to say, but there's more that Johns seems to know how to hear. No one has ever understood Riddick like Johns does, and that makes him precious.

Riddick squeezes the back of Johns' neck then uses the grip on his scruff to force them apart. He can't take being that close to Johns anymore. Not without getting even closer. He's fallen too fucking far into Johns, teetering on the edge of his event horizon, a degree of pitch or yaw away from driving deep into him. As much as they're in each other's pockets, that's too much for this moment. Riddick turns and pushes into the rec room, knowing he has to make distance and clear his head.

Johns waits a beat in the doorway before following him. More implicit acceptance, probably, and the willingness to give Riddick the space he needs. Riddick's halfway across the room when he feels the ship decelerate and start to change direction. Johns nearly walks past him but picks up on the way Riddick's paused and casting out his senses in the middle of the room. Johns reads Riddick's posture then brightens and checks his tablet. It only takes him a second, and then he looks at Riddick with a wide grin.

"We're going home."

* * *

Lupus IV isn't the first place Riddick would have picked for any kind of leave, but of course it's where the Johns Homestead is. Boss gets around to offering to drop folks off at any reasonable point along the way, but the rest of the crew bases out of the Lupus System anyway, and it's not like Riddick has any place to go. If the goal of this mess is to put some distance between themselves and Boss and Luna's hormones, Riddick doesn't quite understand how all going to the same place is going to help, especially when Dahl starts teasing Boss about watching out for signs of Luna nesting. " _I'm just saying, Boss. If he shows up with a baby, I can guarantee he didn't get it out of a basket in a river._ "

It's twisted, even for Dahl, and Riddick laughs harder than he should. He also wonders what the hell he's supposed to do with himself for the next few weeks.

That lasts about five minutes. Then Johns tells him he leased a puddle jumper from a family friend that the two of them will take to go hunt on their own. Of course, _of course_ , that's Johns' idea of a vacation. Riddick is ridiculously relieved. Maybe he'll be able to convince Johns to go on one of those long ground hunts that Boss refuses to spend the time on. Weeks on one mark dug into the wilderness like a tick is just not cost-effective. But hell, it's vacation, right?

They make Lupus System in just twelve days. No one even bothers to drop into cryo for the trip. Riddick can't really blame any of them, but the trip would have felt a hell of a lot shorter if someone knocked Luna the fuck out. Honestly, the kid is gonna give Boss a heart attack. Probably not a bad way to go though.

Boss docks the _Amos_ at an orbital station above Lupus IV long enough for Dahl and Stern to jump ship. Johns must sense Riddick wondering when they'll catch their own ride and tells him to cool his heels. Their lease doesn't start until tomorrow. So Riddick sits back to watch Boss take the _Amos_ into atmospheric descent. The last time Riddick went planetside in a ship in this weight class, only part of the ship made it. Even if the _Amos_ is considerably smaller than the _Hunter-Gratzner_ , she's not exactly graceful in the throes of gravity. The flight controls kick in Boss' hands the whole way down. Riddick supposes this is why he's spent two years with this crew, leaving her in orbit the whole time.

There's only one kind of ship Riddick knows of that doesn't try to pull itself apart at the seams during atmospheric re-entry. And all that Necro-tech is scrubbed now, piled up on itself at the Threshold. Riddick thought about going after them once upon a time, but Vaako took the faithful straight down the universe's throat, and it didn't spit them back out. Those that got left behind cannibalized each other until there was nothing left. There's nothing out there anymore but a recon detail put together by some of the major systems. Just in case something does come back out some day. Riddick doesn't worry about it. He did his time with that shit show.

He does miss their space craft sometimes though. The _Amos_ lands with a thump hard enough that Riddick bangs his elbow on the arm of his chair. As big as the _Basilica_ was, that bitch never even bobbled once in five years, no matter how many worlds they set down on.

Riddick remembers those five years with a sort of dim monochrome dread. He doesn't think the universe had any hue to it again until he ran into a Johns. He might not see color anymore, but Boss had asked about his son, and Riddick had remembered blue, like an ocean. A prism had begun to slowly turn into the light, casting the other colors one by one back onto Riddick's memories. Then Johns himself had walked up to Riddick one day, and Riddick found he'd made it all the way to the other end of the spectrum where red-gold burned like a sun, and Riddick realized he lived for the light.

Riddick has even given up on Furya since then. At the time, his survival instinct fixated on it because he'd needed a reason to keep pushing, something to keep him from letting himself die in the tomb the Necros wanted to put him in. But the only real way to make a star system disappear is to unmake it, and Riddick knows that fucker Zhylaw would have chewed Furya down until there wasn't even enough left to leave a Conquest Icon stuck in. Zhylaw wouldn't have settled for genocide when he had enough firepower for obliteration. And Riddick doesn't need the corpse of a planet to be the center of his universe anymore.

Johns bangs a fist against the edge of the bridge hatch and asks Riddick, "You coming?"

Riddick smiles to himself and stands to follow Johns. He doesn't need anything else now that he's one half of a binary star.

* * *

If Riddick was prone to speculation, this is exactly how he would have imagined the Johns Homestead. Boss set the _Amos_ down on the flattened crown of a broad hill. A two track road rambles down from the landing site and crosses a single lane bridge over a coulee onto the next knoll. There, cedars and knobby jack pines tuck themselves against a rambling single-story house. The road smudges into a driveway between the house and the mismatched steel outbuildings before turning and disappearing over the curve of the hill.

Boss loads them into one of the UTVs, and Riddick sits in the back with Luna while Johns tells his father about all the mods he's made to the truck recently.

Boss looks proud but still jokes, "Yes, but will it pull a combine?"

Johns laughs and turns to the back seat. "My granddad wanted to be a farmer. I guess mercing sometimes skips a generation."

"And how long has your family been playing The Most Dangerous Game?" Riddick asks.

Boss smirks at him in the rearview mirror. "Seven generations, my son."

"If that don't explain it all," Riddick snorts.

"You can read?" Johns teases him.

"I oughtta know it," Riddick scoffs. "Isn't it the Merc Manifesto?"

Boss and Johns laugh while Luna looks a little embarrassed. Riddick figures Boss will be reading the kid a bed time story sometime in the near future. For the time being, he's too proud to ask for an explanation. The kid still has a lot of growing up to do. Riddick suddenly hopes that doesn't mean Luna will grow out of Boss, because it's actually pretty nice here, on the edges of this weird little family in the throes of contentment.

Riddick sees a dust trail when they cross the bridge, and by the time they park in front of the house, there's an old guy on a quad, waiting for them with a crooked-toothed smile.

"Saw the ship come down!" he calls out to Boss. Riddick tenses.

"Relax, Rick. That old man's been around since I was spitting out baby teeth," Johns tells Riddick while Boss slides out of the truck and goes over to give the interloper a lingering handshake.

"Who is he?" Riddick asks.

"Neighbor," Johns answers with some amusement, like he knows just how foreign the concept will be to Riddick.

When Johns gets out of the truck, the neighbor whistles appreciatively. "Billy! Been a long damn time, boy!"

"Heya, Dar," Johns says and shakes the old man's hand too.

Riddick hangs back while the locals bullshit their way through some small talk. Boss introduces Luna as his partner, but Luna, ever at Boss's side, doesn't let him get away with any ambiguity. The kid leans into Boss' side and loosely threads their fingers together. Dar laughs, not unkindly. Boss makes a show of rolling his eyes. Riddick isn't about to walk over to take part in the posturing and glad-handing, so he makes himself busy unloading the truck. Still, he can hear the others chatting.

"If this one is your dad's, I'm assuming that one is yours, Billy," Dar jokes.

"Mm," Johns agrees mildly. "My partner, Rick."

Riddick turns the corner around the truck and effectively removes himself from the conversation, just so he can have the private pleasure of pretending there was no ambiguity about that declaration either. Honestly, no one needs to know him outside the context of William J. Johns anyway. Riddick avoids the others for the entire neighborly visit.

It makes Riddick almost feel a little bad about when Dar takes the time to catch his eye and wave at him before he fires up the quad and rolls back down the road. It doesn't help that he left boxes in Johns' and Luna's arms. Riddick didn't see anyone exchange credits, but there's definitely something to show for the visit. Once Riddick follows Johns and Luna into the kitchen, he finds out it's food-- real beef from free range cattle and fresh produce from Dar's farm. There are even a couple cases of beer. Riddick shakes his head with a sense of disbelief, which Johns questions with a raised eyebrow.

Riddick shrugs at him. "Just always thought being neighborly was a euphemism for being an asshole."

Johns laughs and explains, "Dad keeps a casual security contract with Dar. Pays him a little to check on the place when he's gone. Not that he needs the money. Some people, Riddick, just like to be involved."

Riddick makes a face. "So he's nosey?"

Boss bustles into the kitchen and says, "Yeah, but he's harmless, and he likes to show off how good his produce is. I'm gonna get the solar generator going, but since the cooler ain't running yet, why don't you boys get that meat on the grill right away?"

"Be quick about it, or the beer's gonna get warm," Johns warns, pulling a bottle from one of the cases and knocking the cap off against a handy metal lip on the end of the kitchen island.

"That's a valid concern," Luna says seriously. "Maybe I should come help you."

Boss smirks, but Johns grabs Luna before he can follow Boss out the door. "Oh no you don't, Sparky. We want him to actually get something done right now."

Besides, "You cook," Riddick orders.

Luna rolls his eyes. "Okay, Caveman."

Johns snorts on his gulp of beer, and Riddick leans unconcerned against the black resin countertop next to the sink.

Before long, electricity flows back into the house and all the kitchen appliances hum awake. Johns takes Riddick out the back door and gets to work cleaning the grill while Riddick checks out the landscape. There's some open space behind the house, but the trees close in fast, except for a spot where there's a path leading into the woods.

"What's down there?" Riddick asks.

Johns follows his gaze and then says, "The rest of the family," with a small smile and a helpless shrug.

Riddick looks at the path again, then looks back at Johns. "You and your dad all that's left?"

"My mom died when I was five," Johns says, scraping at the grill. "Only other family I ever knew was Granddad, and he passed just before I enlisted. My dad didn't have any brothers or sisters. So..."

It's no wonder Boss held onto the thinnest strands of hope for his son for years. Riddick is suddenly acutely aware that if he starts poking around inside that house, he's going to find an honest-to-god Family Bible with the Johns lineage sketched inside the covers. He also knows that getting what he wants means Johns is where that lineage will end.

Both of them, the last of their kind. Riddick tries not to find anything poetic about it.

Luna grills a mean steak, and they all eat with their hands out on the deck. They don't get meals like this out in space, and none of them balk at licking the steak juices right off their fingers. Boss swallows half a bottle of beer in one go when he's done and belches. There's a drip of juice at the corner of his mouth, and Luna looks like he wants to eat it right off Boss' face. The kid settles for some decorum though and swipes at it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth. The whole meal is carnal and glorious, and Riddick is damn glad for the full belly that's keeping him sated for the moment.

Johns goes to get a few more beers while Boss and Luna step off the deck and start fucking around like pyromaniacs at the fire pit. Evening has dropped the north side of the house into shadows, and Riddick finally feels like he can take his goggles off. He positions them on his brow just as Johns sets a still-sealed bottle of bourbon in front of him.

"There, you elitist prick," Johns says.

Riddick told him a long time ago he didn't much see the point in beer. Johns nudges the bottle closer to him and doesn't leave until Riddick twists the cap off and takes a long pull. Johns grins and smacks his shoulder before heading over to the others to keep his dad from setting the whole place on fire.

They get a decent blaze going and spend the rest of the night drinking and talking shit until long after the sky goes dark. This is not what Riddick would have ever expected out of a visit to the Lupus System. There's an insular closeness here, but it's comfortable, something completely apart from the feeling of being cornered and hunted. Riddick grins, because he feels not unlike prey that has decided to warm itself at the hunter's fire. With impunity, even.

Luna migrates into Boss' arms as night closes in, and under the open sky, it's not as suffocating as it is on the ship. Boss and Luna are a warm glow on the other side of the fire right up until they're not. It's late when Boss stands, tucks Luna under his arm, and disappears into the house. Boss and Luna take all the conversation with them when they go.

There's a spare bedroom inside the house that Johns showed Riddick earlier. It has a big bed in it with an afghan blanket spread out over the top. Riddick isn't ready to shut himself up in that room. Not when there's a soft breeze out of the east and the smell of growing things coming from every direction.

Johns, sprawled in a low wooden chair, tips his empty bottle onto the ground. Riddick listens to it roll through the grass. He holds his breath, like that might stop the night from ending.

Johns leans forward in the chair, and the sound of a fresh beer hissing open matches the hiss of air back into Riddick's lungs. Riddick puts his hands back on the log bench he's straddled over and smiles into the darkness. The fire is warm against his right side while he keeps his eyes on the cool shadows.

The bourbon bottle is down to its last dregs and there's soft interference buzzing through Riddick's nerves, just enough that time and reality feel supple. Riddick lays back until he's stretched out along the log, gazing up into the night sky. He hears Johns move, and then his merc sinks down next to him, settling on the ground and leaning against the bench so the back of his head rests on Riddick's arm.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Johns asks.

Riddick's thoughts are scattered enough that he has to spend some time pulling them all back together before he can come up with an answer. The truth is, it's been too long since he's had solid ground to anchor himself in. Johns always has this to come back to, a place where he can bury his fingers in the earth and know he's home.

Riddick thinks about the emptiness of space and things he keeps letting slip through his fingers. "What are we _doing_?" he asks, because honestly. _What in the fuck are they doing?_

Johns makes a noise-- a laugh half-drowned in another swallow out of a bottle. Riddick feels him shrug against the outside of his forearm. He's warm and close, the smell of him both sharper and more fleeting in the crisp, free shifting air.

"Mmm," he starts eventually, voice mellow and slow. "No big mystery to it. It's all just shit we haven't done _yet_."

Riddick rolls that around in his forebrain for a while before he lets out a warm chuckle. Yeah, it figures Billy-Boy is a philosophical drunk. Riddick moves his arm and lands his hand on top of Johns' head. Johns hums at the touch.

"'Sides, I don't think it matters where we're going," Johns goes on, his words just starting to blur at their edges. "No one gonna stop us from getting there."

Riddick's fingers thread into Johns' curls.

"You and me together?" Johns says, like he's daring the universe.

Riddick looks at him, profile limned with flames and shadows. He asks, "Is what we're doing and where we're going the same thing?"

Johns closes his eyes and tips his head into Riddick's palm. "Isn't it?"

Riddick doesn't stop his hand from tightening in Johns' hair. He tugs possessively. Johns' head tips back, exposing his throat. His lips part, an "ah" spilling past them, more air than sound, the sharpness of it cutting straight into Riddick's belly. Riddick raises his head and ravenously takes in Johns' every detail. He tugs that blonde head back again.

Johns' back arches and he exhales that same noise, a slow gasp that's all gratification and hunger at once. Riddick holds him in place with his hand, watching the movement of his throat when he swallows. Johns' eyes slit open and roll toward Riddick until all Riddick can see is the way Johns watches him, chasing Riddick in his periphery.

 _What are you waiting for?_ Riddick can hear him say. It's louder than it's ever been before.

Johns licks across a growing smile, like he see's the moment Riddick will break coming.

Riddick does break, down into Johns, like a wave. His mouth crushes over Johns' lips at a messy slant, working wet and determined to consume the smile that Johns is eager to feed him. Johns' answering groan is some mix of joy and relief as his hands close on either side of Riddick's head. Riddick growls into Johns' mouth, body moving on autopilot until he's crouched over Johns, pressing him back into worn wood. Johns bites Riddick's bottom lip and pulls just hard enough that Riddick has to let out his own harsh, overwhelmed gasp. Johns takes the opening and presses in, licking the bourbon from the back of Riddick's teeth.

Riddick shudders and wants to find purchase with those teeth. He feels like those steaks happened sometime years ago, and he's a starving man. He jerks Johns' head to the side, getting another groan, and goes for Johns' pulse. Johns opens himself to the assault, head lolling, hum vibrating his throat beneath Riddick's greedy mouth. Riddick bites down sharply when he feels Johns' hand on the back of his trembling thigh, squeezing and trying to drag him down closer. Johns cries out, short but loud enough that it echoes off the back of the house.

Riddick grins against his skin and pulls Johns away from the log, pressing him down into the grass. Johns gets Riddick by the back of the neck and hauls him down for another kiss, writhing until Riddick has to let his body melt down over Johns, like that might keep the strength of him pinned to the earth. Once he's trapped, Johns locks Riddick down on top of him like he's never going to let him up.

Riddick fists one hand into the grass beside Johns' head and devours him down with a kiss so deep and demanding that Johns' fingernails gouge at Riddick's bare shoulders.

It's fucking perfect. Right down to the taste. Right down to the way each of them push and pull until their warring parts slot together like a high-caliber rifle. Riddick's mouth slides off of Johns' and to the side again, sucking down his jaw and finding that spot on the side of his neck that makes Johns buzz. It's salt and heat against Riddick's tongue, and Johns vibrates underneath him.

" _Fuck_ ," Johns praises.

Which makes it a lot harder when Riddick decides he needs to slow the fuck down. He's waited a long time for this. There's just enough haze in his brain to keep him grasping for and missing the purest, crystal-clear distillation of this moment. He's not willing to miss any part of this. His kisses slow, and Johns simmers but slows with him until they're just a pile of flesh, panting against each other next to the dying embers of a forgotten fire. They lay together, sweaty and unfulfilled.

So it's a surprise when Johns starts laughing. Riddick pushes himself up on his arms to gaze down at him. Johns is flushed, but there's no recrimination in his eyes.

"What _are_ you waiting for?" he does ask, eyes twinkling.

Riddick will sound like a tool no matter what he says, so he just presses a warm kiss to the corner of Johns' mouth then rolls off of him. They lay there catching their breath for a long time. Riddick maybe even closes his eyes and drifts.

But Johns eventually peels himself off the ground. He kicks sandy soil over what's left of the fire and then stops, his boots crunching the dry grass next to Riddick's cheek. He nudges Riddick's shoulder with the toe of his boot. Riddick opens his eyes and gazes up at him.

Johns shakes his head then holds out his hand. "Come to bed," he says.

Riddick knows he's not going to spend any time in that room with the afghan blanket on the bed. And for once, he thinks, letting Johns lead him into the house, sleep won't be a chore.

* * *

Riddick wakes up beside Johns just before dawn. Johns is on his belly, face smashed into a pillow. He's soundly asleep, and Riddick sits up in the bed, taking the time to memorize the freckles on Johns' back and just how many scars he doesn't have. It should be weird, this waking up next to Johns after how long they've both spent trying to prove to the universe that they're somehow separate from one another.

It just isn't though. Even with the promise of all the things they haven't done _yet_ hanging in the air like a taunt, this is still just what they are. Whether it's the middle of a firefight, chow time on the _Amos_ , or this moment in Johns' bedroom in the house he grew up in… they're fitted to each other. The rest is just details.

Riddick rolls onto his side and watches the sky grow bright outside Johns' window. He stays in bed until he hears someone else start moving around the house. Johns doesn't stir when Riddick gets up and lets himself out of the room. He meets Boss in the kitchen and they murmur at each other over coffee. Riddick wanders off for a shower while Boss works on growing enough of a spine to kick Luna out of bed.

Riddick takes his time in the shower. The water is clean, untainted by reprocessing chemicals like it would be on a ship. Riddick allows himself to wallow in the warm wet of this dirtside indulgence. He finally pours himself back into some pants and leaves the bathroom. Johns, just outside his own bedroom door, sees Riddick step out in a cloud of steam, and scowls.

"Goddammit, Rick. You used all the hot water, didn't you?" He bitches.

"Give it a minute. It'll recharge," Riddick replies.

Johns snorts and lands a stinging slap on the left side of Riddick's bare chest when they meet in the middle of the hall.

"Oof!" Riddick says with slow mockery, trying to look appropriately wounded.

Johns shakes his head and continues toward the bathroom. His hand lingers on Riddick's chest as he steps past, and just before he pulls away, he twists Riddick's left nipple with deft fingers. Riddick winces and grabs his chest, spitting out a curse. Johns laughs himself into the bathroom.

Riddick pretends for a minute that he's gonna hold that against Johns, but by the time he's fully dressed and back in the kitchen, he's fighting to keep a smile off his face. It's still just Boss out there, and he raises an eyebrow at Riddick.

Riddick makes a face and says, "What."

Boss eyes him a moment longer then takes a deep breath and raises a finger, like he's about to throw down something serious. Riddick cocks his head, sharp and skeptical. Boss deflates at the look and flaps his hand dismissively.

"I'll drive you to Hancock's to pick up the ship whenever you're ready," Boss says. "His shop is only 40 minutes out."

Riddick tries not to outright laugh at the fact that Boss was really gonna try to give him _The Talk_. He mimics Boss, raising an imperious finger, and says, "Now hear this. If you hurt that boy--"

That's all the farther he gets before Boss throws his coffee spoon at Riddick's head. Riddick ducks with a shit-eating grin, and the spoon skids across the top of the kitchen island, ricochets off the coffee grinder, and bounces into the sink with a clatter. Boss put some force behind that one. He doesn't throw anything else though.

"Fucking kids," he mutters into his coffee, as if he really does want Riddick to think he's pissed.

He blows that act when he squeezes Riddick's shoulder while leaving them at their ship. He gives his son a tight hug too before he goes. Riddick thinks about that time he called Boss "dad" just to shock him. The edge on that particular weapon has probably gotten pretty dull by now. Boss has called him "Son" more times than Riddick can count, and it's not even ironic anymore.

Riddick feels something almost like optimism sparking inside of him as he steps forward.

The puddle jumper looks like any other from the outside, and it's pretty standard on the inside too. Riddick notes that there's only one cot in the back, but he doesn't read anything into it. He and Johns will have to take shifts to get any good tracking done. Riddick drops his small bag on the floor, kicking it under the cot, and savors the novelty of having enough possessions he intends to keep to need a bag at all. It's just clothes and weapons, of course, his favorite torn shirt, extra pants, and blades, but Riddick still chuckles at the realization that he's willingly accepted having literal baggage.

"What's so funny?" Johns asks.

Riddick turns to answer him but goes still when his eyes scan the cockpit. Johns is in the pilot seat, as expected. Next to him, there's a mag-lock restraint chair. Riddick's chest tightens. He moves into the cockpit slowly, giving his fists time to unclench. He steps up to the chair, the only other seat aside from the pilot's, and gives it a long look before sinking down into it. Johns eyes him speculatively.

"Yer hilarious," Riddick tells him.

Johns accepts that with his own chuckle and gets them airborne. Riddick keeps himself from fidgeting in the chair until they're well underway. Eventually, his fingers wander. He finds the controls on the side of the chair and toggles a button he can't see. Magnetic bands snapped closed around his ankles. He tries another button and another set of bands snap closed on the arms of the chair. Riddick only had one arm set in place, so the other can still reach the controls. Instead of releasing himself right away, Riddick runs his fingers over the empty restraints. He's never felt them from the outside before.

"Kinky," comes Johns' soft tease from next to him.

Riddick's cock twitches with interest while the rest of him stills. He gives himself a moment, eyes hooded, to consider what it might be like if he got Johns in this chair. He's willing to bet Johns doesn't have any idea how it feels to be in full body restraints. Shit, he'd be a gorgeous goddamn picture, panting and straining, skin flushed as it peeked through the uniform artfully sliced open by Riddick's blades. Riddick lets out a wistful sigh. _Beautiful._ He's still wound pretty goddamn tight.

"It has potential," Riddick mutters toward Johns, afraid that if he looks into his eyes, he won't be able to reign himself in.

Now isn't any more opportune of a moment than last night, but Riddick's control is stretched thinner than it's ever been. He focuses on sliding his hand back down the side of the chair and releasing the locks. He rubs his wrist once it's free and tries to wipe his mind clean before he lifts his head.

Johns' eyes immediately catch him, knifing right into him. Johns' heat, open and raw, floods through the breach, setting Riddick instantly on fire. There is so much _want_ between them. Only Johns could do this, capture Riddick under a metric fuckton of hunger with just a look. Riddick collapses from the weight of it, slouching down in the chair, letting it settle hot and heavy in his muscles. His knees fall open and inviting. Johns licks his lips, unconsciously probably, just as caught in the landslide as Riddick, but he tears himself free with a snort and turns to look out the viewport.

"If you think yer gonna fuck me for the first time in a restraint chair, boy, you got another thing coming," Johns says, too casually.

This time, Riddick's cock _throbs_ with excitement. He grips the arms of the chair to keep himself from tearing Johns to his feet and bending him right over the flight console. Johns seems to get it now though. That's not how Riddick's going to fuck him the first time. Riddick takes a steadying breath. Johns side-eyes him, still hungry but clearly back in control as a cocky grin spreads across his face. Riddick should call him an arrogant little shit for that knowing look, but he likes it-- likes Johns' confidence and certainty that it's only a matter of time.

And he's not wrong. Fuck knows this has been a long time coming. Even before, they would have ended up here if not for a badly placed shiv. Everyone knows it by now. Everyone expects it. Riddick wonders how much the crew has been betting on them. Maybe the only real reason he's kept holding back is to let it grow that much sweeter. Riddick can practically taste it now.

Still, this isn't the perfect moment, and Riddick tries to distract himself by playing with the chair's controls again. He eventually finds the button that flips the arms up and tucks them neatly against the chair back. _Interesting_.

Johns squirms and then stands, making for the cargo hold. Riddick can feel him struggling, and Riddick's own want is too sympathetic to stop him from reaching out. He catches Johns by the hips and looks straight into his eyes as he pulls him closer. Riddick feels his cock start to fill at the way Johns just lets him manhandle him, pulling him slowly down over his lap so Johns straddles him, perched on Riddick's knees. Johns arches an eyebrow, expression saying he's not going to repeat himself about getting fucked in a chair.

"Not gonna," Riddick murmurs to him. "Not now."

Johns huffs out a little laugh and relaxes, sinking down into Riddick's lap. His weight snugs up Riddick's hardening cock between them. Johns has to feel it, but he accepts it like he accepts everything about Riddick.

"Want you to do something for me," Riddick says, sliding his hands up Johns' hips and around to the small of his back.

"And that is?" Johns asks, again sounding far more casual than he has any right to.

"Sing something," Riddick suggests.

Johns laughs openly with real surprise. "What?"

Riddick rubs his lower back, fingers kneading and bunching the heat that radiates from the slope of warm muscle . "Come on. I know you can."

Johns' expression gets thoughtful. Riddick tries to remember if he's ever heard Johns sing this time around. He doesn't think so. It was the other Johns, the Johns this Johns knows about but is missing, like a chunk out of his life. Realization spreads across Johns' face, recognition of something he senses but can't quite remember.

"Did we ever," he starts. "Before?"

Riddick shakes his head. "Hearing you sing to yourself while I was strapped into this chair is the closest we ever came."

Johns nods, eyes distant in thought. Riddick brings him back by pulling him down tighter onto his lap.

"I want you to remember that moment," Riddick murmurs.

Riddick is sure that moment lives somewhere in Johns' soul, a thing that can't be erased, just like all the other things Riddick saw and knows about Johns. If Johns can feel guilty for all that shit he wasn't even there to do, he has to be able to feel something for the moments that were worth it. Riddick needs Johns to understand that, to know how far and deep this goes between them. Everything in the here and now is only half the story, and Johns needs to know that Riddick had too many reasons not to kill him, even then. This started in another lifetime, with different evolutions of their selves, but they're the ones who will take everything sweet that was almost wasted. Johns licks his lips, the look he shares with Riddick saying he understands all of it. It doesn't make him shy away.

Johns gives Riddick that first soft hum. Riddick shudders at it, feeling it like a touch, one that covers every inch of him, including his cock. Johns starts hesitant but closes his eyes and smooths out fast. The full, rich timbre of his voice grows inside his chest. It's not the same song he sang last time. It's something slower, more soulful. Riddick bathes in the sound. He wishes for the sunlight that turned Johns to gold last time, but he's still beautiful in the half dark of the starlight, cast in the violet wavelengths through which Riddick will now always see the universe. Riddick doesn't know the song, can't anticipate the dips and surges in the tune. He doesn't try to hum along which makes him better able to appreciate how the sound changes when Johns parts his lips.

Something inside Riddick aches. He leans forward and presses his mouth to Johns' quivering throat. Johns' voice catches but steadies. His hands slide up Riddick's shoulders and onto his bare head, molding warmly to the curves of Riddick's skull. He keeps singing. Riddick absorbs it through his lips and then laps longingly at the sound. Johns presses himself closer, his fingers tightening. Riddick lets his mouth slip down, stretching Johns' uniform to lay a line of kisses and nips along his collar bone. Johns shudders once but his voice seems to melt even more intimately into the roll and sway of the song.

Riddick breathes Johns in through his nose, that perfect smell. He's hard now, harder than he wants to admit, but Johns must know it. Johns' hands fist at the nape of Riddick's neck. Riddick licks his way back up Johns' throat. He shifts Johns against him just enough that he can finally feel Johns' own hard-on pressing against his belly. He groans and sinks his teeth into the cord of muscle beneath Johns' ear.

Johns' voice disintegrates into a moan.

Riddick surges up and captures his mouth, swallowing the sound down. He licks his way into Johns' mouth, starting a slow grind with his hips that brings entirely different noises out of Johns' throat. Johns' hands clutch at Riddick's head, pulling him in to devour him, fighting his own way into Riddick's mouth like he's trying to etch himself into Riddick's teeth.

Johns is a fire inside Riddick that will no longer be ignored.

Riddick blindly scrabbles at Johns' belt, yanking his pants open enough to pull Johns' cock out into his warm hand. He tugs his own tight shirt halfway up his chest and urges Johns forward. Want runs down his spine like fire at the hard, velvety feel of Johns moving against him. Riddick reaches up and forces his hand between their warring mouths, and they both lick and spit into his palm. He reaches back down, slicking spit and precome down the perfect curve of Johns' cock. Then he presses and holds the length, hot and wet, against his own tensed abdomen. Johns hisses and strains into him then falls into a languorous, rolling rut against Riddick's belly. Riddick uses the thumb of his free hand like a hook, catching it against Johns' bottom row of teeth to open him up so he can lap at the sharp points of Johns' canines.

" _Jesus, fuck_ ," Johns moans into Riddick's mouth.

Riddick growls and rocks himself against the curve of Johns' ass. They writhe against one another, sealed together at the mouth until Johns throws his head back and cries out. Riddick doesn't have the words for how beautiful Johns is, open-mouthed and flushed, uniform rumpled in place, badge flashing. Johns looks down, into Riddick's eyes, watching the way Riddick knows he's falling apart beneath him. Johns rolls his whole body each time he fucks himself against Riddick's trembling belly, every curve and line of him liquid sex, pooled and pulsing in Riddick's lap. It's so much—too much. Riddick moans. Johns' eyes dilate even more at the sound, and he throws his head back again. He braces his hands on Riddick's chest and rides against Riddick's belly like he's fucking slow and deep into the best thing he's ever had in his life.

Riddick surges forward to mouth at the strong, proud line of his throat. He presses his thumb up under Johns' cockhead and rubs, stuttering Johns' thrusts and wrenching a shout from him. Johns' cock throbs in Riddick's hand as Johns' entire body goes shock-rigid over him. He's so still that it's almost violent when his hips give a spasmodic jerk. Riddick grins and growls at the hot splatter of come across his stomach. One thick rope lands, then Johns quakes as the last of him wrings out in fat drops. Riddick tightens his fist, demanding just a little more. Johns gives him a wounded moan and crumples, burying the crown of his head in Riddick's shoulder while he struggles for breath. Riddick eases up, just pets Johns' cock, savoring the twitches that run through his frame, wondering how long before it becomes unbearable for him.

It's damn near unbearable for Riddick. His thighs shake with the need to thrust up into Johns, and Johns bonelessly wiggles backward enough to fumble Riddick's pants open. He smears his hand through the warm mess he just painted onto Riddick and then shoves it into Riddick's pants, making a wet hole for Riddick to fuck up into.

Riddick moans involuntarily as Johns latches onto his throat. He feels Johns' rough, low murmur when he says, "Come on. Do it."

Riddick bares his teeth and pumps himself through Johns' fist. He has to push up through the Johns' weight still spread across his thighs and feel the way Johns' whole body rides his every thrust. Even Johns' hand is the best he's ever had. Riddick is already so close. Johns kisses him and moans into his mouth, and Riddick feels drunk on him. Johns is every wet dream he's ever had, all in one body, all over him, squeezing him tight. Riddick wants to come on every inch of him.

" _Do it_ ," Johns commands in his ear.

Riddick has never been so willing to obey. He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to. He lets out a long, ragged grunt and spills into Johns' fingers. Johns fucking _purrs,_ and Riddick can't do anything but fuck a few more wobbly thrusts into the hot mess they've made together. His hips falter, and Johns strokes him through it with rhythmic heat, humming contently in his ear. Riddick _whimpers_ , and Johns laughs softly, so, _so_ pleased. Riddick feels every part of himself go soft under Johns, everything he is suddenly pliable, ready to be shaped to whatever Johns needs. Riddick smiles as he lets go of any illusion that he might have ever been in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Most Dangerous Game_ is a reference to the short story of that same title by Richard Connell, written in 1924. 
> 
> Out of excitement, I rushed this chapter the first time I wrote it. It was full of typos and other things I wanted to fix, so after my late summer hiatus, I decided I would edit this chapter to get myself back into this story. It's nothing too dramatic, but I hope this revised version suits everyone. (This is in no way a guarantee that all the typos and bad punctuation are gone, but I tried. Lol.)


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